


Caught in the Crossfire

by Peps4lyfe



Series: When I Fall, Who Will Catch Me? [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Peter Parker, Organized Crime, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Tony Stark, Slow Burn, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peps4lyfe/pseuds/Peps4lyfe
Summary: “What do you want from us?” Peter barely mustered.The vicious crime lord peered down at the teenage boy.  “Tony Stark has something that I want.”“Tony Stark doesn’t negotiate with assholes like you,” Peter spat back.Kingpin smirked.  “If he loves you as much I think he does, then I know he’ll do anything to get you back.”-----------------------Peter’s junior year was supposed to be different: no nightmares, no trauma, no anxiety.  But with a sudden and violent power-grab against the feared Maggia Crime Syndicate, it’s up to Spider-Man to protect New York.  Peter wasn’t afraid of a challenge, and he had Tony Stark fighting by his side now.  But what if being Tony Stark’s protégé was more dangerous to Peter than he realized?





	1. Learning to be Happy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "Underneath the Smiles." Originally, I wasn't planning on making a sequel but I realized that there was a lot of backstory that I could build on and expand in this story, which is why I made it a sequel :) For the most part, you don't really need to read "Underneath the Smiles" to understand what's happening but there will be quite bit of references and backstories to these characters that won't make sense if you haven't read it. (Personally, I recommend that you do read it, but that's just me :-P)
> 
> That being said, this story will most likely be much darker and heavier than it's predecessor. There's a lot more violence and torture and angst. It shouldn't be too bad, but I thought I should just warn you first.
> 
> That being said, enjoy!

_“Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience:_

_this is the ideal life.”_

~ Mark Twain ~

Chapter One: Learning to be Happy

Peter could hear MJ singing.  Faintly.  Being half asleep didn’t really help, either.  He knew she wasn’t paying attention to him so Peter dared to open his eyes.  She was leaning against her pillows, eyes trained on her sketchbook, mind lost in whatever she was drawing.  MJ was always such a nervous singer, even though Peter thought she was great at it.  He recognized the song, too, as _Bleeding Love._ It definitely was the kind of music that she would never tell anyone that she secretly enjoyed, but the way she was bobbing her head along, it was obvious how much she was getting into the song.  Peter decided to wait a little bit longer until he would say something to her.  Moments like this didn’t happen often, so he thought he would enjoy it while it lasted.

Peter was at MJ’s apartment, up in her bedroom.  It was decorated the same as it was when she first moved here: a little bare, though there were more pictures of Peter and more of her artwork were hung up.  The curtains were pulled open, letting the sunlight stream inside.  It was a Saturday afternoon in mid-September.  It was nice outside, sunny and everything, one of those blissful days in Queens that made it so damn difficult for Peter to try to get any work done.  He was pretty content where he was now: lying lazily on MJ’s bed, his head resting comfortably on her legs.  Despite lying on the fabric of her worn-jeans, he could have slept there peacefully for at least another hour.  And MJ must have noticed that Peter was waking up because she shook her legs until he finally leaned up and got off her.  “You know, I was really comfortable just then,” Peter complained through a heavy yawn.  He shifted how he was lying so that he could look directly into MJ’s eyes.

“Well, your big head was starting to hurt my legs,” she said.  She glanced at Peter, just barely breaking her concentration from her sketchbook.  “And I finished sketching you so I don’t need you lying on me anymore.”  MJ’s lips spread into a smile.

_God, that smile_ , Peter thought to himself as he looked at Michelle Jones.  Even though they saw each other practically every day, Peter was always so beyond belief every time he let himself really appreciate how beautiful MJ was.  Her freshman and sophomore year, she never really put much attention into her appearance, but starting this junior year, she began wearing light makeup.  Peter really wasn’t sure what she put on her face (he barely knows the difference between foundation and concealer — _is there even a difference?),_ and he was well aware that she was beautiful with or without makeup.  Whatever she added though made her skin all glowy and it seemed to bring out her eyes even more.  She staunchly refused to do her hair, however.  Didn’t really matter to Peter.  He liked her curly black hair, appreciated that fact that she was comfortable with how she looked.  Right now, it was pulled back into her favorite hairstyle: a bun, and she wore this bright red t-shirt.  It brought out her eyes, too, and Peter felt himself getting lost in them.

“Are you even listening to me right now?” MJ said.

“‘Course I am,” he muttered.  He leaned forward to twirl a loose strand of her black hair absent-mindedly before returning his attention to her sketchbook.  “Does that at least mean I get to see your sketch of me?” Peter asked with a coy grin on his face.

MJ glowered at him.  “No.  Not until I add the finishing touches,” she said, closing the sketchbook and holding it close to her chest. 

Peter leaned against MJ’s pillow, occupying the empty space on the right side of her bed before rolling around to face her.  “Rude.  I’m modeling for you for free.  I at least deserve to see it.”

“Model for free?” MJ scoffed.  “I’m letting you sleep in my room.  _On my leg.”_

“I thought you liked it when I slept with you,” Peter joked.

That comment earned a scowl from MJ and a smack to Peter’s arm.  If Peter wasn’t Spider-Man (which meant he was freakishly and significantly stronger than the average man), he had to admit that MJ’s punches probably would have hurt.  “I hate you,” she said, “and you better make sure that Shelly or Harrison don’t hear you say that.  Or Kevin!” 

“Oh relax,” Peter said.  He snuck his arm underneath MJ and wrapped it securely around her waist.  He got up nice and close to her so that he could properly nestle his head against her shoulder.  Again, they were never really like, all cuddly and blissful, especially since MJ wasn’t much for physical contact but they’ve been having a good day — and Peter had no problem pushing his luck.  Only, she was still scowling at him so Peter decided to retract his earlier statement.  “ _Fine._ How about ‘I thought you liked it when I slept _next to_ you?’” he offered.

She rolled her eyes.  “Still hate you.”

Peter grinned.  “Bullshit you do,” he muttered.

“Language, nerd,” she said.  This kind of banter was normal for them, even though anything that had to do with the two them was far from normal.

Peter and MJ’s sophomore year weren’t exactly filled with the typical issues that everyday teenagers face.  Peter got his first girlfriend, MJ.  They had a couple awkward dates.  He got to go to a “wild” party at Flash’s house after the Winter Ball.  Dealt with a drunken MJ as a result.  That was pretty average, Peter supposes.  And perhaps your senior crush leaving and dealing with a few bullies was normal too, but those situations were more complicated.  Liz Toomes moved because her dad was arrested… and her dad happened to be a criminal mastermind that Peter’s alter-ego, Spider-Man, put in jail.  Yup.  Peter lovingly got to deal with the guilt of knowing that he ruined Liz’s life last year.  To make matters worse, Peter was dealing with a whole slew of emotional and mental problems that he wasn’t expecting: flashbacks, nightmares, hypervigilance, anxiety.  The list goes on.  It took a lot of tears, courage and help for Peter to overcome his trauma, but the year didn’t seem to settle there.  It was MJ’s turn for her world to come crashing down around her.  Her father was abusive, something that took Peter too long to realize.  MJ’s family life was completely and utterly uprooted after CPS declared her father abusive and terminated his parental rights over MJ and her younger brother.  It’s been five months since MJ’s last seen her father. 

Shitty, right? 

It’s for the best.  At least, that’s what MJ kept saying — and Peter was in absolutely no place to make judgements about what she thought was best for her.  It was her home life.  It was her own trauma.  She never said a damn thing to Peter about how he should handle his problems.  She was only there to support him, so Peter knew that he had to do the same thing for her. 

They didn’t officially date over the summer.  In fact, they only got back together at the beginning of their junior year, but it seemed like they were rapidly making up for lost time.  They saw each other every day at school and one of them was over at the other’s apartment at least every other day.  Perhaps that would seem like a lot to someone who just thought of Peter and MJ as a cute little high school relationship, but everyone else knew that what they had was different.  Peter and MJ were good for each other.  They knew that themselves.  MJ understood Peter’s trauma better than most.  She knew he was Spider-Man (Peter didn’t tell her but MJ was observant, so she was smart enough to figure it out).  Knowing that secret eliminated a lot of barriers.  Peter didn’t have to lie anymore, and MJ could figure out what might trigger a panic attack easier.  Not that he’s had a lot of those.  The summer served as a great time for Peter to recover.  He was learning to cope in a healthy manner.  And Peter knew what had happened with MJ and her father, the whole story and he was honestly convinced that he was the _only_ person who knew the whole story.  And because of that, he was at a good place to help her if necessary. 

Right now, though, with MJ snuggled up against Peter, Peter wasn’t thinking about their trauma.  Not in the slightest.

“Did you get any homework done while I slept?” Peter asked. 

She shrugged.  “Already finished my homework before you came over.  I figured you would be more distracting.”

“Well, I was tired,” Peter admitted.  He repositioned himself to get into a more comfortable position.  Moving hurt, however, and it garnered a slight groan from Peter.  “And a little sore, too,” he added.

“Rounds again?” MJ asked. 

During Peter’s freshman and sophomore year, it seemed like MJ didn’t care at all about the masked vigilante.  Peter figured she saw him as another powerful, big-headed superhero who all the popular girls cared about and probably wasn’t fighting crimes for the right reasons.  He wasn’t sure if it was because she figured out he was Spider-Man or if MJ had actually cared about the masked vigilante the whole time, but she was pretty invested in Spider-Man.  One time over the summer, Peter caught MJ watching Spider-Man compilations on YouTube.  That’s right.  She was _fangirling_.  Over her boyfriend.  But anyway, MJ watched the news (what kind of teenager does that).  She knew when Spider-Man got into a big fight, kept tabs on the criminals that Spider-Man captured.  Not to mention, the media has been paying more attention to the masked vigilante now that Tony started to go on rounds with Peter more and more.  Ever since what happened his sophomore year, Tony was more protective of Spider-Man.  It wasn’t about babying, and Peter knew that.  Besides, it was pretty fun for Spider-Man and Iron-Man to team up together and kick some _serious_ criminal ass.  They had a 100% success rate.  Granted, they haven’t ran into much serious crime.  Of course there were a few robberies here and there, a couple muggers every now and then, but really, Peter’s been finding himself keeping graffiti artists and vandals away from local businesses.  Last night was the first serious crime that Peter stopped in a while. 

“Yeah,” Peter said through a yawn.  “Didn’t get back ‘til 12:00 last night, and then Ned and I stayed up and played video games for another couple hours.”

MJ scoffed.  “Oh god.  You are a dork.”

“Who happens to be _Spider-Man_ ,” Peter added.  “But yeah, I’m kind of tired.”

“The two hour nap just now suggested that,” MJ said.  “Seriously, though, how’d they go last night?”  Peter didn’t answer at first, especially since he knew it wasn’t like MJ to get all riled up about what happened to Peter during rounds (that was more of May’s job).  “I’m just curious.  And aren’t you always looking for excuses to brag about your night?”

“That’s not true!” Peter scoffed, indignant.  “And it wasn’t anything serious.  I was chasing down some robber and he lost control of his car.  Almost went skidding off a bridge.”

“And you pulled him out of the car at the last minute?”

Peter shook his head.  “Webbed up the car and pulled it back onto the bridge.” 

He wasn’t exaggerating, either.  The driver must have taken a turn too fast because the dude went flying off a bridge.  Peter wasn’t one to let anyone die, even if they were criminals, so he webbed up the car and Peter held onto the web for dear life.  He was strong, don’t get him wrong, but catching a car mid-fall could have easily dislocated his shoulder.  Not to mention trying to pull the entire car back to safety.  In hindsight, it probably would have been easier just to attach the car to the side of the bridge and then yank the criminal out, but Peter didn’t think of that at the time.  He felt pretty satisfied with himself that he managed to do it without Tony’s help (Tony was trying to help with getting civilians out of the way to help Peter).  Unfortunately, Peter was reeling in pain today.  His joints ached, his muscles throbbed and he messed up his shoulder.

“Impressive.  Surprised the news hasn’t done a cover story,” MJ said.

“Be patient.  It’ll happen,” Peter said.

A second later, MJ rolled over in her bed to the point of where she was straddling Peter’s hips.  She weighed practically nothing so having her entire weight on top of him barely even phased Peter.  Again, they were young and they weren’t dating for too long but… they were teenagers and sometimes, they just couldn’t control themselves.  MJ leaned down to press languid kisses on Peter’s jaw and neckline.  “Does this make you feel better?” she whispered quietly into Peter’s ear.

“Um, you’re not really massaging the right parts,” Peter barely managed.

“And what parts do you _want_ me to massage?” she whispered.

“Jesus… um… when, uh…” Peter stumbled over his words right now, though that wasn’t hard to imagine.  Peter’s blood was starting to rush to _other places_ so trying to form cognitive sentences didn’t really seem like a possibility.  “When’s your th-thing?  Your support group?”  It was one of Mr. Kernan’s — the CPS worker assigned to her case — ideas to help MJ recover.  Every Saturday afternoon, she would go to downtown Manhattan where she had meetings with girls and women who went through similar domestic and parental abuse experiences.  Peter knew it was coming up soon, but he just couldn’t remember when.

MJ pulled away with a frown.  “ _That’s_ what you’re concerned about right now?”

“Concerned ‘bout—”  MJ started working her hands up his back, running her fingers over his abs (he could say he had abs, right?).  “ _You_ ,” he finally added through gritted teeth.  Peter thought it’d be best for stop trying to speak and instead focus on the really gorgeous girl lying on top of him right now, working her lips down his neck.  He let her take control this time, let her decide when to finally press her lips against his lips.  The kiss was fervent, deep, and Peter felt her run her tongue against his teeth. 

Somehow, in the heat of everything happening, Peter could sense that something was off.  He froze underneath MJ, and she noticed it.  Reluctantly, MJ pulled away.  “Am I do something wrong?”

Peter shook his head.  “No, it’s not you…”  Peter knew what it was.  He could hear footsteps coming up the stairs.  Quickly, Peter wiggled out from underneath MJ just as her door opened.  “Hey Kevin,” Peter said, breathless.

Kevin Jones, MJ’s little brother, walked inside and stood beside MJ’s bed.  He looked between MJ and Peter back and forth.  Of course Kevin had no idea what he had just interrupted, but sometimes Peter wasn’t so sure.  “Shelly wanted me to let you know that lunch is ready.  Why are you guys so out of breath?”  He was so damn innocent, and Peter was trying really hard not to laugh at how awkward the situation was.

“Nothing, Kev,” Peter said.  “We were…”  —there was only one thing that came to Peter’s mind—, “arm wrestling.  We’ll be down in a second.”

Kevin clearly didn’t look like he bought what Peter was saying.  He stared at Peter — more like, _glared_ at Peter, as though he was the enemy.  “Just be downstairs soon.  Shelly will be mad if your lunch gets cold.” 

They waited to talk again until they were sure that the door was closed; Peter strained his hearing to make sure that Kevin wasn’t just pretending to just walk down the stairs.  He let out a heavy sigh in relief.  “I think we’re good,” Peter whispered.  The second they were safe from Kevin, Peter and MJ couldn’t help themselves but start laughing.

“Arm-wrestling?” MJ repeated.

Peter rolled his eyes.  “Shut up.”

“For someone with as big of a secret as you have, you are _terrible_ at lying,” MJ said with a contented sigh.  She leaned close to Peter to press another kiss on his cheek before reluctantly rolling off of her bed.  “Come on.  Get up.  I’m gonna change.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay for that?” Peter said with a grin.

MJ picked up her calculator off her desk and hurled it at Peter.  Thanks to the spidey-senses, Peter caught it with his left hand and twirled it around for a couple seconds.  “Get out of here,” she said.  She grabbed toward his feet and started dragging him out of her bed.  Peter decided to give in.  He slumped off her bed, gathered up his backpack and threw it across his shoulder.  He was just at the doorway when MJ said, “Wait!”  She hurried to him.  “One more thing,” she said before leaning forward to kiss him again.  “Just in case you forget what that’s like.”

“Really can’t imagine I’m going to forget what that’s like,” Peter said with a grin.

“I’ll be down in a second,” MJ said.

Peter hurried down the staircase and to the kitchen.  Just last year, when MJ was in a pretty bad place and Peter was still struggling to come to terms with his issues, he could never have pictured himself to be this happy.  This _blissful_ with his life.  There were things in his life that were out of Peter’s control, like what happened in the past and the trauma that he had gone through, but he was learning to accept that — _and_ he was learning to appreciate what he was in control.  MJ was doing the same.  They were both learning to be happy with what they had and who they were now.  Being together… that was just an added bonus. 

Downstairs, Shelly O’Connor was dishing out what looked like paninis onto three plates.  Shelly’s been great, and Peter was genuinely so happy that MJ was under this woman’s care.  Shelly was MJ’s aunt on her mother’s side.  After MJ’s mother died from cancer when she was in sixth grade, MJ, her brother and her father lost contact with everyone on her mother’s side.  There were extenuating circumstances, of course, considering that her father became an alcoholic following her mom’s death.  Peter knew Shelly had a hard time coming to grips with what MJ and Kevin had to go through for years.  Peter knew exactly what kind of guilt Shelly was experiencing, too.  All those confusing questions of ‘ _what if I been paying more attention?  Could I have stopped what happened?’_ Peter felt the same way as he looked back on his freshman and sophomore year. 

Shelly looked up from the food with a smile.  “Did you guys get _any_ homework done up there?”

Kevin, who was sitting at the island, chuckled.  “They were probably arm-wrestling.”

Shelly turned to look at Peter with a confused expression; Peter just blushed.  “I fell asleep,” he admitted.  “MJ will be down in a second.  She’s changing right now.”

“Surprised you didn’t stay for that,” Kevin said with a grin.

Both Peter and Shelly couldn’t believe what MJ’s little brother just said.  Wasn’t he, like, nine-years-old?  Peter thought he was blushing before but that was nothing compared to how tomato red he must have looked currently.  Shelly looked just as appalled as she stared with wide-eyes as Kevin.  “Kevin!” she exclaimed, to which he just laughed as though he hadn’t done anything wrong and hurried off to sit at the table next to the living room.  She sighed.  “I’m sorry.  Kids, right?”

“Aren’t I still technically a kid?” Peter said with a laugh.

“You know what I mean,” she said. 

Shelly’s been great all things considering.  Really.  The kinds of things that she does for MJ and her younger brother has really done leaps and bounds for them.  And Peter _knew_ the kind of sacrifices she was going to have to make now because he saw the same thing happen with May and Ben.  She wouldn’t regret it, he knew that (and he knew that’s how May felt, no matter how many near heart attacks Peter had given her).  Taking on two kids, _especially_ after what they went through, would be a challenge, though.  Shelly and May were getting along pretty well, and Peter couldn’t help but think to himself that part of it was their similar stories.  May was probably giving Shelly _plenty_ of advice on how to parent.

“How’s he holding up?  I never really ask that,” Peter said.

Shelly turned to look at Kevin: he was preoccupied with eating and watching something on his iPad.  “The kid lost the only parent he’s had for most of his life.  That’s hard,” she said.  “I don’t really think I need to explain that to you, though.”  It wasn’t a statement designed to hurt Peter.  She — _hopefully_ — didn’t know Peter was Spider-Man, but she knew Peter hasn’t had an easy life, either.  She knew about Peter’s parents and what happened with Uncle Ben and the fact that there was still lingering trauma as a direct result from him watching his uncle die.  Shelly really took on the responsibility of caring for Peter, too.  She’s been open to him, honest and willing to help him if it came down it. 

“No, you don’t,” Peter said.  “Is Mr. Kernan having him do anything like what MJ’s going through?”  The therapy.  The support groups.  Peter didn’t want to say those words out loud when he wasn’t sure if Kevin was listening.

“The kid’s young,” Shelly said.  “Too damn young to _have_ to do those things.  Mr. Kernan has him come along with MJ to some of her counseling sessions every now and then, but he seems to be doing alright.  I don’t like underestimating kids — honestly, they can be smarter than adults sometimes, but I’m just not sure if he really understands what’s going on completely.”  Peter understood that, too.  MJ told him that normally whenever her father got physically abusive, he made sure Kevin wasn’t around. 

_At least the man had the decency not to traumatize both of kids_ , Peter thought bitterly.

There was no time to continue their conversation because Peter heard MJ’s footsteps coming downstairs.  “It smells good,” MJ commented as she sat down beside Peter.  She was still wearing those faded jeans from before but she changed into a more formal, button-up shirt.  “What are you guys talking about?”

“Just homework and stuff,” Peter said.

“Who’s driving you tonight?” Shelly asked.

“I can drive,” MJ offered, but it was obvious she didn’t seem very confident in that statement.  That was another thing.  Ever since she had gotten in that car accident with her dad, she’s been pretty tentative about driving.  She still drives herself to school or to Peter’s apartment, but it wasn’t something she enjoyed and Peter could tell. 

“If you need me to, I can drop you off,” Peter said.  “I have to run to the grocery store anyway for dinner tonight.  I’d be more than happy to take you.”

“I don’t want to bother you—,” MJ started.

“It’s not a big deal,” Peter hastily interjected, but he added a smile just in case.  “Seriously, I promised May and Tony I would make them dinner tonight, anyway.”

MJ laughed.  “You?  Cook?”

Peter feigned an appalled look, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly worried about finding a way to mess up dinner tonight.

They finished their lunch quickly and, soon, it was time for Peter to drop MJ off.  It was a nice day, and the Audi Tony gifted to Peter at the beginning of this year had a great radio too, so they rolled the windows down and blasted their music.  MJ always got a little nervous before she went to her support groups — Peter understood that, too, considering he was so wound up every time he went to his sessions with Dr. Strange last year.  To ease her nerves, he let her pick the station and made sure that she felt completely comfortable right now.  Peter always wanted to meet some of the women that run the support group.  He thought it would be a great way to understand what MJ was going through and getting advice on how to help MJ was always something he was seeking out, but MJ didn’t even let Peter walk her into the building, even though Peter offered every time.

He pulled up to the curb on the other side of the street.  “Text me when you’re finished?” Peter asked. 

MJ nodded.  “Yeah.  See you in a bit,” she added.

“See you,” Peter said.  He watched as she hurried across the street just as the timer for the crosswalk ended.  He wished she was more open about what happened in her support groups, but MJ didn’t push Peter last year so he should show her the same level of respect.

Peter finished grocery shopping long before MJ’s support group was finished.  He figured he should enjoy the nice day, so he went to one of the coffee shops, bought himself something to drink and sat outside as he tried to sort through his piles of homework.  His goal this year was stay on top of his responsibilities, but sometimes his mind just wandered and he couldn’t help but get a little bit behind.  Peter was just about halfway through his chemistry homework when Peter got a text from MJ telling him that she was done.  He gathered up his stuff quickly, hopped into his Audi and drove around the lot to pick her up.  She was standing by the crosswalk again, waiting patiently for Peter.  He parked against the curb and MJ scrambled inside.  They were off once the light turned red.

“How was it?” Peter asked.  He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t done a little bit of research on her support group.  It wasn’t so much about traditional and structured therapy as it was creating lasting relationships and finding new ways to cope with what MJ was struggling with.  Other than the pure research he’s done, though, Peter didn’t know a lot of the specifics.

MJ shrugged.  “As good as you’d expect.”  She looked away now, red in the face.

“Is everything alright?” Peter asked as he took a right turn to get onto a busy street.  He reached over to put a hand on MJ’s, feeling pretty confident that he wouldn’t have a problem driving one-handed.

“Yeah,” MJ said. 

Peter knew better than to believe her right off the bat.  “MJ…” Peter started.  He didn’t like pushing her when she wasn’t comfortable with something, but they had come to a mutual agreement that suppressing emotions wasn’t good for either of them.  When Peter kept something from MJ, it hurt MJ.  And the same could be said for Peter.  If something was really bothering MJ, it wasn’t like Peter expected her to be explicit in detail about what was bothering her.  Just knowing what she was feeling at least so that Peter could be more aware with his actions was all he asked.

“One of the women in my support group brought their family,” MJ finally said.  She was staring out the window, which meant whatever she was feeling was worse than Peter had anticipated.  The no eye contact thing was a dead giveaway that something was seriously wrong.  “She had an ex-husband who was really abusive.  Six years later and she’s remarried with kids.  She’s _happy_ , Peter.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Peter asked, tentatively.

MJ nodded, hastily.  “It is.  No, I’m really happy for her it just made me miss having a family as happy as that…  And what’s sad is that my family wasn’t even that happy but I _miss it._ ”

Peter bit his lip.  He had the hardest time trying to talk MJ through this kind of stuff.  “I know it’s tough, alright?”  Absent-mindedly and still keeping his eyes on the road, Peter ran his thumb over the ridges of MJ’s knuckles.  “But I just want to know that, maybe you’re not related by blood or anything, but you do have a family that cares about you.  And, hey, if that woman in your support group can overcome what she went through, then you can, too.”

“I know…” MJ said. 

“Then why do you seem so upset, right now?” Peter asked.

“It’s nothing.”

“MJ, it’s not nothing.  You need to stop belittling your feelings—”

“I’m not belittling my feelings.”

“It’s okay to be upset about things,” Peter said.

“It took her _six years_ , Peter!” MJ suddenly exclaimed.  The stop light in front of Peter was red, so when the car came to a stop, he looked over to MJ to see that her eyes were welling with tears.  “It took her six years to get over what happened.  And she doesn’t have to deal with terminating parental rights and giving Shelly legal custody over us!  That shit can take forever!”

Peter stayed quiet for a couple seconds.  MJ was pretty heated right now, and Peter knew he was getting pretty upset, too.  Right now, what they needed was to take a couple breaths, gather themselves and then talk rationally.  Peter really hated arguing about this kind of stuff with MJ.  It wasn’t like Peter was justified in saying that MJ was being unfair about the situation.  It would never be in Peter’s place to dictate how MJ should be feeling because Peter had never gone through something like this.  Even if Peter had gone through something like this, Peter and MJ were still two different people, which meant that their experience and perception of events were different.  She was _allowed_ to be upset, and Peter was in the wrong to try and dictate how she handles her grief.

“I’m sorry,” Peter finally said. 

MJ sighed.  She wiped her eyes.  “I’m sorry for yelling at you.  I’m just… I’m just tired.”

“When’s the court date for Shelly’s custody hearing?” Peter asked. 

Again, MJ was pretty private about the legal matter involving her father.  According to Mr. Kernan (and more research), the legal system didn’t really like separating families, even abusive ones.  Still, it didn’t seem like Mr. Jones would be seeing MJ or Kevin any time soon.  At least that was a positive, and a negative, Peter supposes because it was obvious that MJ missed her father.  Shelly and Harrison received temporary custody rights over MJ and Kevin, but in order to make them legal guardians, there were required trials, working with social workers, proof of their familial ties and proof that they would be able to support two kids — especially when one was about to go to college.  From what Peter’s overheard and gathered from when he’s over at MJ’s apartment, it seems like Shelly and Harrison were _very_ likely to be given full custody over MJ and Kevin.  It’s just the court dates and red tape that stresses everyone out.

“Not for another month,” MJ said.  “It’s the soonest date Mr. Kernan could schedule.”

Peter pulled up in front of MJ’s house where they sat in his car for a little bit.  This really wasn’t how Peter wanted to leave the conversation, so he tried again.  “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.  He didn’t expect her to invite him over, but it seemed like it was a given at this point in their relationship.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.  I volunteer at a soup kitchen every Sunday at Chinatown, and I was wondering if you wanted to join me,” MJ said.  Peter always knew that MJ volunteered a lot — she may put on a front of indifference, but MJ was definitely one of those ‘protest for the marginalized’ kind of person.  “Some of the girls in my support group said that it’d be a good way for you and I to get on a more personal and spiritual level… or something like that.  I don’t really remember.  But, the offer stands.”

“Of course I’ll go with you!” Peter said, eagerly.  “Is there any paperwork or anything that I need to fill out?”

“Since you’re underage, there’s a form online.  I can send the link to you,” MJ said.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Peter said.

MJ pushed the car door open just slightly before turning back to Peter and kissing him on the cheek.  “Thank you,” she added before slamming the door behind her and hurrying back up her stairs.  

* * *

The spider-senses Peter had been fine-tuning for most of his sophomore year and the summer leading into his junior year were pretty helpful in a lot of things.  In fights, Peter could anticipate his opponents moves before his opponent could even fathom executing them.  Peter felt it in his bones and muscles if there was a threat nearby.  But the spider-senses also helped _outside_ of being Spider-Man.  For example, Peter rarely slept in anymore because his spider-senses just knew when he was supposed to get up.  His driving skills were great.  It was like he knew if someone was trying to pass him (or if a cop was nearby and Peter was speeding, but no one besides Peter needed to know that).  In terms of cooking, the spider-senses were great.  If he was trying to make pancakes, Peter just _knew_ when he was supposed to flip them.  He had a good understanding of whether or not he was about to overcook something.  However, there are some things that the spider-senses can’t quite anticipate like—

“You read the wrong recipe?!” May exclaimed.

Peter sheepishly looked at the ground.  “Guess so…”

May glanced at the food in front of Peter.  He was trying to make chicken pot pie.  He prepared the vegetables, got the oven and prepped the rest of the food.  Somehow in between the time that he was supposed to lightly cook the vegetables and then add the chicken, he must have flipped to the wrong page because he added a bunch of seasonings and salt and other _weird_ ingredients that he wasn’t supposed to. 

“You know, for a smart kid, you really are dumb sometimes,” May said.  As far as she was concerned, she didn’t look angry in the slightest.  More amused.  “Guess chicken pot pie isn’t happening tonight, then?”

“I’m sure we can salvage it,” Peter said.  He took a bite of his vegetables.  While they were nice and soft, cooked _just right_ , the flavor was not working.  “Yuck.  Maybe not.”

“Were you distracted?  This isn’t like you to mess up on something so easy,” May said.

Peter shrugged.  “I was just thinking a lot,” Peter admitted.  He wasn’t lying about that, either.  Ever since he dropped MJ off at her place, all he’s been doing is thinking about her.  Okay.  He thinks about her a lot, but normally about _other things_.  In fact, Peter hasn’t thought about her _and her father_ this much since the beginning of the summer.  Expecting that she would have just ‘gotten over it’ by now would be stupid and unfair, but she hasn’t brought up missing her family in a while.  Seeing her that upset honestly hurt.

“Wow.  You overthinking things.  What a surprise,” May said.  She leaned over to put her hand on Peter’s arm.  She glanced at the food in front of her.  “Oh well.  This isn’t the first time we’ve messed up a meal in our house.  What kind of food are you feeling tonight?”

“Surprise me,” Peter said with a sigh.  He really was looking forward to cooking Tony and May a good meal tonight.

When May told Tony about what happened (and after Tony finished laughing about it), Tony told May and Peter about this new, family-owned Italian restaurant that he really wanted to try out.  He was already pretty close to May and Peter’s apartment so they figured they would just carpool over, especially since Tony was the only person who knew where this restaurant was.  Peter tried to get through a little bit more of homework before Tony came over, but he was so excited that he couldn’t really focused.  Even though Tony and Peter normally do rounds together, Peter didn’t consider that to be them spending time together.  It was business-only on rounds, regardless of how low-profile criminals that they were going after were.

Tony must have texted May that he was here because May tapped on Peter’s shoulder and said, “Time to go.”  It still looked pretty nice outside so Peter opted against the jacket today.  “Did you get any homework done?”

“Not as much as I would have liked but there’s always tonight,” Peter said.  “Oh.  I forget to mention to you before that MJ wanted me to volunteer with her at a soup kitchen in Chinatown.  I can show you the details when we get back.”

May smiled.  “You’re volunteering, Peter.  Why would I say no?  Honestly, I can’t even remember the last time you volunteered.”

Peter frowned.  “What do you call what I do every night for Queens?”

Peter knew May was messing with him, but he was still pretty indignant.  “Vigilantism,” May whispered into Peter’s ear as she pushed the front door of their apartment complex open.  Now that they were outside, all Peter could do was roll his eyes in response.

Parked in front of their apartment complex, sticking out like a sore thumb, was Tony Stark, in one of his lavish, nice cars.  The engine was still running to Tony’s car _and_ he was illegally parked, so May hurried into the front seat and Peter hurried into the back.  It was Tony Stark, so naturally he was dressed up pretty nice even though Peter didn’t think they were going to nice of a restaurant.  For someone who didn’t know Tony, they could look at his life — the nice cars, the expansive opportunities Tony was offered with the help of who his parents were, the overdone appearance — and judge him pretty hard.  People could easily assume he was spoiled, an elitist, didn’t care about the ‘common-folk’, or the little people.  The fact of the matter is, that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.  Perhaps Tony can be a bit crass, will indulge himself in expensive cars and nice restaurants, but just because Tony had a lot money doesn’t automatically make him a bad person.  Tony had a big heart.  He defended and protected the people he cared about, sacrificed _so much_ to fight against enemies that the police force or the military couldn’t handle.  That kind of stuff had obviously taken its toll on Tony, yet people still see him as the bad guy.  Even May saw him as the bad guy before she realized how much he was doing for Peter.

 “So, you were reading the wrong recipe, I heard?” Tony said.

Peter frowned.  “You know, it can happen to anyone.”

Tony just laughed.  “How are you doing, May?” Tony asked as he merged into traffic. 

“Alright,” May said with a smile.  “What’s this place called?”

“Dante’s.  Pepper knows the owner of the restaurant and she told me to try it out,” Tony said.

“And how are you and Pepper doing?” May asked.

“We’re doing pretty good, if I’d say so myself,” Tony said with an amused look on his face.

It was great to see Tony and May get along as well as they had.  At first, Peter was a little worried that Tony was only making an effort to get along with May because he thought she was pretty — just thinking that to himself made Peter shudder.  Fortunately, it wasn’t like that.  Tony respected May as Peter’s parent.  Even though Tony went behind May’s back by giving Peter the suit, now that she knew about Peter’s identity, Tony made sure she was okay with whatever Peter was doing.  With everything that unfolded last year, they came together to do whatever was best for Peter.  All things considered, both Tony and May handled Peter’s PTSD well, _and_ they had no reserve accepting MJ for what she had gone through.  Tony especially.  His father wouldn’t exactly qualify for the ‘World’s Best Dad Award’ and that definitely could be said about MJ’s father, too.  Peter wasn’t aware if Howard Stark had ever physically abused Tony, but that didn’t mean Tony couldn’t relate to MJ.  

May and Tony’s dynamic was so weird though, like they were two confused, divorced parents trying to raise their teenage kid.

“Here we are,” Tony said as he took a right turn onto a fairly busy street.

At first, Peter’s eyes went straight to Dante’s but his glance only lasted on that restaurant for a short-lived moment.  “Holy shit,” he whispered, completely forgetting that Tony and May were sitting in the seats in front of him.  The building next to it — and Peter wasn’t sure if it was an apartment complex or an office — because it was _gone_.  _Burned down._ Some of the infrastructure was still standing, but only the first floor.  Black scorch marks marred whatever wood or brick was left.  Soot and rubble littered the sidewalk and road around it.  Bright yellow police tape wrapped around the building, keeping pedestrians and curious bystanders out.  It must have been recent because every person that passed the building stopped to stare the damage done.  Even Tony, who had seen plenty in his day and age being Iron-Man, slowed down to stare at the sight.

“What the hell happened here?” Tony muttered.

“I’m not sure — and I didn’t hear about any fire on the news,” May said.  “And you guys didn’t see anything like this last night?”

Peter and Tony both glanced at each other.  Last night they were pretty occupied with the car chase.  Neither of them knew about this.  “No,” Tony said.  “We didn’t hear about this last night.” 

Tony parallel-parked into a spot a block away from the restaurant.  When they got out of the car, they hurried to the restaurant to get a closer look at the burning building.  Perhaps it was Peter’s enhanced senses, but he could still smell ash.  It was faint, which meant that the fire probably wasn’t today, but everything looked so fresh, as though the remnants of the building was still shifting and breaking down.  They stared at the sight for a couple seconds later, before May finally ushered Peter and Tony into the restaurant. 

Even though Peter wanted to study the burned down building more, he had to admit that he was glad May dragged him inside.  At least in the restaurant, he didn’t smell ash as much.  The restaurant was a quaint place, pretty small and had a decent amount of customers lounging comfortably in their seats.  It had dim lighting, which was also a plus since that meant less people would be able to spot Tony and eavesdrop on their conversation.  The hostess standing in the front eagerly smiled at the three of them.  She obviously recognized Tony because she smiled even wider. 

“Table for three,” Tony said.  “Somewhere a little more private, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The hostess smiled.  “Of course.  Anything for a local celebrity,” she added with a smile.  “Right this way.”  She hurried through the front of restaurant, beaming proudly as though it was an accomplishment to just be able to _serve_ Tony Stark.  A few people turned to look at the three of them as they passed, but for the most part, people minded their own business.  The hostess finally settled in the back corner, near the kitchen.  “How does this work for you guys?”

“This is perfect.  Thank you, dear,” Tony said.  The three of them settled into their seats, and May couldn’t help but laugh.  “And what’s so funny?”

“Have you ever used the fact that you’re Tony Stark to get reservations at a booked-up restaurant?” May asked, casually. 

Tony smirked.  “May, I normally have my own private rooms at the booked-up restaurants.  I don’t _need_ reservations.”  He raised his hands with a smirk on his face.

Tony and May probably would have continued their banter, except the waiter came up a second later.  He was this young guy, with a crooked smile and swooping black hair.  He took in the appearances of Peter, May and Tony before finally saying,  “Hello.  I’m Sheldon.  I’ll be your waiter for the day.  Can I get you guys anything to drink other than water?”  The three of them put their drink orders in before Sheldon went on about the specials, some fancy Italian dishes with crab and vegetables galore.  “We’ll get your drinks right out for you,” Sheldon said with a smile when he was finished. 

Considering that the restaurant was pretty busy and it didn’t seem like there was a lot of staff, the service for Peter, Tony and May was great.  They got their drinks quickly.  Honestly, Peter assumed it because the waiters figured if they did a good job waiting on Tony, he would give them a nice tip.  The three of them found themselves ordering their food only a few minutes after they ordered their drinks.

“Look,” May said just after their water, Sheldon, finished giving them their drinks.

She pointed to the TV in the corner across their table.  It was playing the local news station, and Peter knew exactly what it was covering.  The camera was focused in on what Peter recognized to be the burning building just outside of this exact restaurant.  The charred wood filled the screen.  At the bottom, the headline of the news segment read ‘Local business burned to the ground.  Two dead.  No suspects.’  Peter felt his heart fall just reading that.  He hadn’t known that two people had died in the fire.  The camera focused on the news anchor, this red head with a, for lack of better words, truly terrifying expression, like her face was permanently stuck in that weird smile. 

“We begin with the terrible news from last night,” the anchor started, quite seriously and quite forlornly.  “At approximately 3:45 in the morning, the fire department received a bone-chilling call about the burning down of local bookstore.  Now take a look at these flames.”  The camera panned back to show a pretty grainy image of the store while it was still burning: huge flames traveled across the wooden building, dark gray clouds of smoke spiraling up toward the sky.  “With multiple buildings and cars near the vicinity of the bookstore, we are lucky to the report that the bookstore was the only building to burn down.”

A picture of the bookstore prior to the fire filled the screen.  The anchor continued with the news coverage. “It truly is a tragic story.  Dave’s Books has been an huge part of this local area, a place where kids and adults alike escape from their lives and immerse themselves into the storylines of their favorite novels.  Even sadder, though, the owner of this establishment Dave Miranda himself and his wife were trapped inside the building and unfortunately did not make it out in time.”  Then appeared a photo of Dave Miranda and his wife.  The two of them must have been in their late forties or early fifties, and they looked _really_ happy together.  The kind of couple that reminded Peter of May and Ben.  “Their memories will live on through their twenty-year-old daughter and fourteen-year-old son.”

The TV shut off a second later.  Peter, May and Tony turned to look at a new waiter, this older guy, probably in his thirties.  “Sorry about that.  It’s a pretty depressing thing to watch when you’re trying to have dinner.”

 “That’s awful…” May whispered as she looked away from the TV. 

The waiter glanced at the screen with a resigned sigh.  “That’s New York, for ya, ma’am.  If Spider-Man would stop worrying about graffiti artists and lost old ladies, maybe he could have stopped this.”  Whether the waiter did this on purpose or not, Peter caught the glance the waiter sent in Tony’s direction.

Only Tony was more concerned with Peter, and Peter knew why.

Hearing the waiter say that _stung._ And that was an understatement.  It was one thing for Peter to let a bad guy get away while trying to save a victim, but just letting bad guys tear up New York without even _knowing_ about the crime sucked to hear.  To see crime that Peter could have easily stopped and yet didn’t… he felt like someone had punched him in the jaw.  He couldn’t get the face of the burning building out of his mind.  That business was someone’s life.  Lives were lost.  And the suspect was probably going to get away with it.

“Spider-Man can’t be expected to stop every criminal in New York.  There are plenty of police officers out here designed to protect New York citizens as well,” May said. 

“You’re right,” the waiter said.  “I suppose Iron-Man could have helped as well.”

Peter really expected Tony to lose his cool at that point, but he didn’t.  Tony merely nodded with just as solemn of a look.  “Unfortunately, we can’t save everyone.”  He didn’t look smug or like he was trying to one up the waiter with a better comeback.  What’s sad is that Tony was being realistic with what he was saying.  He’s right.  But _god,_ Peter really had to give Tony props because the waiter was really pissing Peter off right now. 

“But you protect people from victimless crimes?  Who cares if there’s some vandalism on a few buildings?  Two people died in that fire,” the waiter said.  “I know I’m overstepping by boundaries, but I knew those people.  People I cared about _died_ in the fire.” 

“You know, I think this conversation could wait for another time,” May said.  It was obvious how much she was trying to defuse the situation.

Clearly, their waiter didn’t seem to quite understand that he should change the subject.  “I’m sorry.  It just sucks because I couldn’t do anything about it and seeing people who can but didn’t made me kind of mad.”

Maybe this guy was trying to apologize to Tony, but Peter knew a thing or two about sarcasm.  The look on that guy’s face and the tone of his voice didn’t suggest that he was being genuine with his apology.  Something inside of Peter, maybe it was from the frustration of knowing deep down that Peter _could_ have saved those two people but didn’t, snapped.  Peter got out of his seat and glared the waiter down.  This waiter was taller than Peter, but Peter was pissed and that obviously intimidated the waiter.  “Okay, dude, you’re way out of line right now!” Peter said.  It was like the entire restaurant had turned to stare at the scene unfolding. 

“ _Peter!”_ Tony hissed.  “Sit down.”

“You’re just going to let him say this stuff to you?” Peter said, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“People have said a lot worse and it’s _not_ worth making a big scene over,” Tony said.

“Too late,” May grumbled.  She put her head in her hands, thoroughly embarrassed.

Peter didn’t _mean_ to make a scene in the restaurant.  Honest.  Obviously, Peter made the choice to get into the waiter’s face, but it wasn’t like Peter thought to himself that he wanted to find as many ways to embarrass May and Tony tonight as possible.  Peter decided to be the bigger person in this situation.  This man was justified in being upset that two people he cared about died.  At the very least, Peter could relate to that anger.  He stepped back.  “Sorry to get all upset,” Peter finally said.

The waiter stared at Peter for a long second, as though he was contemplating whether or not to apologize, but the waiter never got the chance.  Sheldon, their actual waiter, showed up just in time.  And he wasn’t alone.  There was a much older, concerned looking man standing beside.  “Is everything alright?” the older man said.  He turned to look at Tony and May.  “I’m Dante.  I’m the owner.”

The waiter that got into Tony’s face turned to look at his boss.  “I’m really sorry, sir.  There was just a little bit of a disagreement.  It was my fault.”

“No harm.  No foul,” Tony said when the owner turned to look at him. 

To say that dinner after that little outburst was awkward was an understatement.  Surprised that the restaurant even let Tony, May and Peter stay there (then again, kicking out one of New York’s richest patrons probably wouldn’t be a wise business move), Peter didn’t say a single word.  It wasn’t that May and Tony were pissed at Peter.  Of course, they would have preferred that he hadn’t said anything in the first place, but they couldn’t be mad at Peter for getting so worked up about what happened.  Tony and May considered Peter to have a pretty big hero’s complex.  Even Peter recognized that he had the same problem: every crime that happened in New York that Peter didn’t try to stop, he felt responsible for.  Over the summer, Dr. Strange and Tony really worked with Peter to get this unhealthy mentality out of his brain.  But hearing what the waiter said about Peter just rehashed old words.  When they were finished eating, Tony left a generous tip and thanked the owner, who came over once he noticed that Tony, May and Peter were leaving.  Peter stopped just outside the restaurant, staring at the destroyed building.

He wasn’t going to let that complete stranger tarnish challenge the outlook Peter had trained himself to have in this kind of situation.  “It’s not our fault.  Right, Tony?” Peter asked.

“There are things that even we can’t control, Peter,” Tony said with a sigh.  “Come on.  Let’s go home.”

Peter looked on at the older man, who didn’t spare another glance toward the burning building.  Tony was far from indifferent about the lives lost in the fire.  It’s just that Tony understood the fact that people were just going to do horrible things to other people.  Even having Iron-Man _and_ Spider-Man in the same city isn’t going to stop crime.  But something was bothering Tony.  Peter could see it in the Tony’s eyes.  


	2. Friend-of-the-Family

_“Remember that the most valuable antiques_

_are dear old friends”_

~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr. ~

Chapter Two: Friend-of-the-Family

Peter got so worked up about what happened at the restaurant that both Tony and May didn’t think he was in the right headspace to be doing rounds that night, which infuriated Peter even more.  Didn’t they understand that the whole reason Peter was so upset was because someone just called Spider-Man out for not doing enough for New York?  Someone just blamed Spider-Man for two innocent people dying, yet Tony and May decide it’s best for everyone that Peter stays in.  How does that add up?  Peter really considered just sneaking out like he used to, but Tony was being a helicopter parent right now.  There was no chance that Peter would get away with sneaking out.  So, he sat dejectedly in his room the whole night, his mask on.  Karen was synced with the police radio so if there was any serious crime, Peter would be alerted.  He agreed with himself if that there was any _serious_ crime, he would just have to go behind Tony and May’s back.  They would understand, right?

There wasn’t any serious crime that night, which was obviously a good thing.  At least when Peter skipped out on rounds, nothing incredibly dangerous happened.  Even without going on rounds, Peter didn’t get as much sleep as he would have liked because he was up thinking hard about that waiter and the poor family that was just torn apart.  Peter, unfortunately, knew what it was like to lose parents.  The kind of pain he felt was indescribable, and he would never wish it on another person.  Peter thought up of ways that he could come in contact with the two kids, see how they were doing.  Would that be creepy if Peter randomly approached them?  What if Peter went as Spider-Man?  Peter shuddered at the thought.  If a waiter reacted that way, how pissed would their kids be?

When it was 8:30 that Sunday morning (Peter thought it was much too early but MJ wanted to meet for breakfast before they volunteered at Chinatown), Peter finally forced himself out of bed to get ready for the morning.  May was already up and getting ready for work.  “You’re up early,” she said from the living room, not even lifting her head from the newspaper.

“MJ wants to come over pretty soon so that we can eat,” Peter said.

“Are you excited to volunteer today?” May asked.

Peter took a towel out of the closet by the bathroom.  “Yeah!” he said as he closed the door to the bathroom to take a shower.  He got ready quickly, knowing that he was already running late.  By the time he was finished showering and getting dressed, MJ was already on her way to Peter’s apartment.  It was one of the few times she’s ever offered to drive him places, but he figured it would make more sense to take her more practical car over his hand-me-down one from Tony.  When MJ showed up, they had breakfast at Peter’s place, which was nothing more than some toast, eggs and lots of coffee. 

“Thanks for coming with me,” MJ said as she settled into the chair in front of Peter’s kitchen table.

“No problem,” Peter said.  “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Do you guys have everything you need?” May asked.  “Forms are all filled out?  You have enough gas?  And you know how to get there?”

MJ smiled, politely, even though Peter felt like May was smothering them.  “I think we’re all set,” MJ said with a genuine smile.  “Are you ready to go?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  If you are.” 

They finished eating the rest of their breakfast, put the dishes into the sink and were off.  It wasn’t too far of a drive to Chinatown, which was good because traffic was starting to get pretty bad for a Sunday morning and Peter didn’t want MJ to worry about driving.  The closer they got to Chinatown, the more populated the streets became as people desperately searched for any last parking spots.  Chinatown was a hot spot for tourism and for business so it wasn’t a surprise to Peter to see that this part of town was busy.  Plus, it was a weekend so that made it even worse.  When Peter spotted an open parking spot a couple blocks away from Chinatown, Peter insisted that it would be the best spot they would see for a couple of blocks.  MJ expertly parallel parked into the spot.  Because the streets were pretty busy, MJ crawled through the passenger side.

“It’s a nice day outside,” MJ said as he helped her out of the car.

Peter nodded.  He closed the door behind her.  “Yeah, it is,” he said.  He took a deep breath — even from here, Peter could still smell the familiar fish scent that permeated throughout Chinatown and the streets near the place.  Uncle Ben liked to come to Chinatown at least once a month to enjoy the food and street life.  It was trips that Peter always looked forward to.  After Uncle Ben died, Peter and May tried to continue on with the tradition, but it was difficult with all the surfacing memories.  And this was before Peter had learned to cope with his emotional trauma and distress.  Coming here now, he wasn’t sure what kind of bad memories were going to surface, but he was confident that he could handle.

“Everything alright?” MJ asked.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Let’s go,” he said.

He took MJ’s hand and gently interlocked his fingers with hers.  The closer they got to Chinatown, the more and more Peter recognized the place.  The streets grew narrower and narrower, the buildings around Peter and MJ becoming more and more colorful.  Even though Peter wasn’t too familiar with the Chinese culture and he wasn’t sure how much the Chinatown in Manhattan accurately represented the rich Chinese history, Peter felt more appreciative for the lively culture.  Because MJ and Peter had left so early, they had plenty of time to spare before they needed to check in at the soup kitchen.  They stopped at a couple of boutiques to admire the lanterns and sculptures.  It was rare for MJ to get too excited about anything so seeing her eyes light up at the antiques made Peter feel just as excited.

“See anything you like?” Peter asked.

MJ rolled her eyes.  “Relax, Parker.  I don’t need you to get everything I like just because you’re dating me.”

Peter snorted.  “What are you kidding?  I’m totally broke.  I was going to text Mr. Stark and have him buy something for you.”

“Wow.  Didn’t realize Stark was your sugar daddy,” MJ said.  She rolled up her sleeves and glanced at her watch.  “Alright.  We’ve been here for long enough.  We should get to the soup kitchen early so that you can meet Mr. Li.”

The name immediately sent a light bulb off in Peter’s head.  “Wait, we’re working with Mr. Li?” Peter exclaimed.

MJ cocked her arm back and was about to hit Peter in the arm, but the spider-senses made Peter lean back gracefully.  She didn’t even seem phased that she missed.  “I thought you said you read about this volunteering program last night.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed red.  “Well, I mean, it’s just that—” So the spider-senses kept Peter from getting hit by MJ, but it didn’t stop him from saying stupid things.  “Okay, I read the mission statement thing for the volunteer program and I filled out the waiver.  I just didn’t look at much else.  That’s not what’s important,” he stammered quickly.  “Mr. Li owns some super popular restaurant down here, doesn’t he?”

He didn’t need MJ to confirm his question for him.  Despite the fact that Peter was pretty young when he met Mr. Li for the first time, he remembered pretty distinctly going to Mr. Li’s restaurant all the time.  Peter only met Mr. Li once before when Uncle Ben finally got around to introducing Peter to him.  Other than meeting him once, Uncle Ben talked about Mr. Li animatedly every time the three of them went to his restaurant.  According to Uncle Ben, Mr. Li had a pretty interesting backstory: Martin Li came to the United States as an immigrant with his wife in his early twenties.  They moved to Manhattan thinking that their life would be better.  It was, at first, but then tragedy struck when his wife was killed in some kind of accident almost ten years ago; they never had the chance to have kids and put roots down here.  Peter really sympathized with Mr. Li, even though they only met once.  They both understood what it felt like to lose your entire family.  Not to mention, Mr. Li’s food was a delicacy in the Parker household so Peter had a lot of respect for the man.

“Yeah,” MJ said as they hurried through the busy streets, dodging people as best as they could.  “I’m guessing you know Mr. Li?”

“Sort of.  Uncle Ben was a big fan,” Peter explained.  “I didn’t know he ran a soup kitchen, though.”

“He just opened it pretty recently.  Since he restaurant doesn’t open up ‘til later, he runs the soup kitchen in the early afternoon before his partner takes over for him,” MJ said.  “And here we are.” She stopped in front of a brick building with a blue banner hanging over the front door.  The website for the soup kitchen said that it wouldn’t open until 11:00, which was a little less than an hour away, yet there already people lining up from the front door and down the street.  Peter didn’t do a lot of volunteer work considering how busy he got with juggling school and Spider-Man, but seeing how far the line went back made Peter feel pretty shitty about not doing more for the community.

All the volunteers were supposed to go through the backdoor, which led directly into the kitchen.  There were tons of volunteers bustling around to set up, some going through checklists, others wiping down tables and a few still preparing the food.  Considering how many volunteers there were coupled with the sheer amount of food that needed to be made to feed everyone lining up _and_ all the tables that filled the rest of the restaurant, Peter had to admit that this place was pretty big.  Most volunteers were still in the kitchen, which was filled with a surprising amount of dishwashers, massive stoves, ovens, frying stations, huge fridges, and bowls on bowls on bowls.  It was an open kitchen, and the island that separated the tables from the kitchen was clearly were the soup was to be served.  Judging by the setup of the room, Peter gathered that people would first grab a bowl off the plastic table near the opening that looks into the kitchen; then, they get whatever soup they wanted.  Next, they’d walk to another plastic table covered with a table cloth, on top of which were two massive baskets filled with different types of bread and a small bowl of packaged butter.  The last two stations were beverages and utensils.

Peter wasn’t sure how long MJ had been volunteering here, but when Peter and MJ walked inside, the entire room lit up.  Several volunteers, most of them on the older side and dressed in aprons, hairnets and plastic gloves, exclaimed MJ’s name.  An older lady, wearing a name tag that had _Donna_ etched in neat scrawl, stopped what she was doing to come hug MJ.  “I’m so glad you could make it today,” she said, keeping her hands around MJ’s wrists.  When the old lady caught sight of Peter, she beamed.  “And this must be the boyfriend!”  The lady, without any hesitations, engulfed Peter in her arms.  “I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Hopefully good things,” Peter said.  There weren’t any mirrors in sight so Peter wasn’t sure what he looked like, but he felt like a stammering, awkward, tomato-faced kid. 

“Everyone come meet MJ’s boyfriend!” Donna exclaimed.

“Oh no,” MJ muttered.

She gave Peter a sheepish smile just as almost all the volunteers from the soup kitchen came up to Peter.  After he was passed along from person to person to be hugged or to have his hand shaken, Peter was feeling pretty disorientated.  Everyone had so nicely come up to him to introduce themselves, and as of now, Peter had already forgotten everyone’s names ( _thank god_ for the nametags because Peter didn’t want to seem rude).  He just finished explaining his fake Stark Internship for the third time to someone named Jacqueline before he managed to make his way back to MJ.  She was watching Peter with an amused smile.  “Sorry,” MJ said as she took his hand in hers.  “Teenagers tend not to volunteer here that often so when young people are around, they get pretty excited.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Peter chuckled.  “They seem to like you, though.”

MJ shrugged.  “I like being here,” she said.  There was just a hint of emotion in her eyes before she frowned.  “Now get your gloves and apron on and try not to embarrass me.”

“When have I ever done that?” Peter said with a grin as he followed her instructions.  “What are we in charge of today?”

“Serving bread,” MJ said.  She led Peter to the plastic table where the bread was.  “This bin is white bread and the other is wheat.  Everyone gets one roll.”

“Do you normally do this station?” Peter said, playing with the tongs they were given.

MJ shook her head.  “I normally do replenishment, which means I’m in charge of restocking the food, beverages and utensils.  I asked to be here today so that you and I could do this together.”

“Oh okay.  That was good planning ahead,” Peter joked.

“Of course.  I’m not you,” MJ said with an equally joking tone.  She looked up from the bread basket, a new smiling forming on her face.  “Don’t act like a goof,” she muttered.  “Mr. Li!”

Peter turned around to see Martin Li approaching the two of them, and he looked just as Peter had remembered him.  For someone who’s been through so much during his lifetime, Martin still looked pretty young, very few wrinkles and even fewer gray hairs.  That being said, his eyes gave away his age.  They looked heavy, as though they were carrying a burden that most people couldn’t handle.  Those heavy brown eyes were warm, though, as he smiled at the two teenagers.  His jet black hair was smoothly combed down.  He wore an apron with what looked like food bits and grease smeared across it. 

When he saw MJ, he held his hands out excitedly.  “So nice to see you, MJ!  You coming every Sunday really brightens up my day,” Mr. Li said as he gave MJ a one-armed hug.  From the one or two conversations Peter had had with Mr. Li years ago, he was surprised to hear how much the man’s accent has faded.   

“This is the highlight of my weekend,” MJ said.  She looked over at Peter, who was watching the two of them with curiosity.  “This is my boyfriend, Peter.  The one I’m always talking about,” she added, which made Peter even more embarrassed.

Mr. Li turned to face Peter with raised eyebrows.  At first, the man seemed skeptical of the new volunteer, and then, most likely recognizing Peter, he smiled.  “Peter Parker?  Ben Parker’s nephew?”

Peter smiled.  “Yeah.  Yeah, that’s me!”

“Oh, I haven’t seen you in forever!  You’ve gotten so tall…” Mr. Li paused for a second, taking in Peter’s appearance, “ _and big._ You were this skinny little kid the last time I saw you.  How are you?  How is Ben and May?”

Peter cringed.  He hated doing this.  “Um, Uncle Ben passed away a few years ago.  Mugger.”  This wasn’t first time Peter ran into an old friend-of-the-family and had to explain to them what happened with Ben.  It wasn’t like it was getting easier having to tell someone that their friend died, but Peter was slowly figuring out the best way to break the news.  The biggest thing he’s come to realize is that saying ‘mugger’ was enough of an explanation for whoever he was talking to, and they normally never asked follow-up questions.  “But, we’re doing okay.  May and I are…”  —moving on wouldn’t be the right phrase— “coping.”

Mr. Li frowned.  Though Peter figured Mr. Li only knew Ben as a friendly and regular patron of his restaurant, Mr. Li looked pretty upset over the news.  It was times like this that Peter also realized how many people Ben touched during his lifetime.  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Mr. Li said, putting his hand on the teenager’s shoulder.  “How is May?”

“She’s good.  Holding up and everything,” Peter said.

“And you?”

It was a loaded question, not exactly one that people normally asked Peter when he drops the news of Uncle Ben’s death, but it really was amazing how such a simple question meant so much to Peter.  “I’m doing better, thank you,” Peter said, politely.  That grossly simplified Peter’s recovery process.  Only, that answer seemed to perfectly and adequately sum up how his junior year was going for him, and how he hoped it would continue to go for him.  _Better._ “I wish I had known about your soup kitchen earlier.  I would’ve dragged May here to volunteer here with me.”

“There’s always the future,” Mr. Li said.  “Come on.  We’re about to start.  I’ll come over to see how you guys are doing soon.”

“Okay,” MJ said, watching as Mr. Li walked away.

“I’m surprised he remembers me,” Peter said.

“Despite what you may think, you are pretty memorable,” she said.  She paused for a second, watching as some of the volunteers set up the last table, which was apparently the check-in station near the front door of the soup kitchen.  “‘Skinny little boy!’  Now I really want to know what you looked like prior to becoming you-know-who?”

“I didn’t become Voldemort,” Peter said with a feigned look of confusion.

For that comment, Peter decided to let MJ punch him in the arm.

Peter fell in love with the soup kitchen that day.  It was tiring, he’ll admit, but that was nothing compared to what other people had to face in their lives.  Volunteering there was a humbling experience.  It made Peter realize that no matter what he was going through, someone was going through something equally as bad, if not worse.  Peter was fortunate enough to have others there to support him during his trials; some of the people coming to the soup kitchen weren’t as lucky.  Peter wasn’t sure how to react when he heard some of their stories: should he pity them?  Try to help them?  His tried not to let his own insecurities get in his way that day.  He made sure his interactions were completely genuine as he got to hear stories from people with intense backgrounds.  MJ was completely in her element, though, so Peter just tried to emulate what she was doing.

A lot of people recognized MJ, and MJ knew the names of some of the people here, too.  She smiled warmly at every person that walked through, greeted the ones that she knew and excitedly learned the faces of the people she didn’t.  Michelle Jones honestly amazed Peter.  Her heart and spirit and love for other people, despite the front she put on at school, was really coming through right now.  Seeing her smile around the volunteers here made Peter want to come every single Sunday.  She was obviously comfortable here.  And happy.  And the fact that Peter could be a part of this made him equally as excited.  Not to mention, Peter really liked being around the volunteers here.  They were all so accepting and wise.  When they had their breaks, they would come over and say cliché lines that made Peter and MJ laugh ( _“Don’t waste your youth.  It goes by fast”_ or _“I remember what it was like to be young and in love and not have a care in the world”)._ It was kind of like having twenty grandparents, each with a unique personality.

Mr. Li was just as great of a person as Peter remembered Uncle Ben to describe him as.  The FEAST project, which stood for Food, Emergency Aid, Shelter and Training, was somewhat of Mr. Li’s personal child.  As Peter and MJ volunteered during the day, MJ told Peter bits and pieces of Mr. Li’s journey to creating this project.  Living conditions in China and when he first moved to New York were difficult.  Mr. Li never had a lot of money, so going hungry, being homeless, those were all too familiar to him.  He wanted to do something with his life, help others like he wished he could have been helped.  Thus, the soup kitchen was born.  It was a pretty small scale thing, giving people a warm meal for the day, but this was just the start of Mr. Li’s FEAST project.  He wanted to open more soup kitchens state-wide and then possibly nation-wide where food could be served regularly and there could be care-packages that people could take home with necessities.

“He seems like a good guy,” Peter said as they finished the last round of serving food.

MJ nodded.  “He really is.”  She looked at Mr. Li darkly before saying, “He knows about my dad, too.  Well, he knows my dad isn’t the greatest and that we’ve been working with CPS for the past few months.”

“Does he know why?” Peter asked.

“Not the details,” MJ admitted.  “Then again, not a lot of people know the details.”

“That’s okay,” Peter said.  “No one expects you to tell them the details.”  Peter looked up to see an elder man waiting in front of them.  “Wheat or white bread, sir?”

“Wheat,” the man responded with a toothy smile.  Peter served the last of his rolls.  “Have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too,” Peter said politely. 

That was it for the day.  Peter and MJ stuck around for a while longer to help Mr. Li clean up in the kitchen as well as wipe down some of the dirtied up tables people were sitting at to eat.  Mr. Li had to leave a little earlier so that he could start setting up at his restaurant, which left some of the older volunteers in charge.  They insisted that Peter and MJ take the rest of the day off.  Something about it being too nice of a day and the two of them being too young not to be outside enjoying their lives.

“Really, it’s not that big of a deal,” MJ insisted as Donna, the volunteer who first introduced herself to Peter, ushered to get MJ and Peter out the door.  “Why are you trying to get rid of us so fast?  Did you not like Peter?”

Donna smiled.  “Peter was fine.  You two have already given up most of your day.  Go enjoy the rest of us.  Let the adults take care of everything.”

“We’re almost adults,” Peter tempted.

“Hogwash,” she said, shaking her head.  “Peter, take MJ out to a nice dinner.”  They were already at the door.  “I hope to see you two next Sunday.”

“Of course,” MJ said. 

She said her goodbyes to the volunteers, which took a lot longer than Peter had anticipated with all the hugs and handshakes.  Outside, the sun was shining and the air smelled strongly of fish.  They decided to go to one of the restaurants down here and get take out for their families.  MJ and Peter were both pretty swamped with homework so they parted ways after MJ dropped Peter off back at his apartment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Peter said, standing outside of MJ’s car.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, again.  “Maybe you and I could keep doing this together.  You could bring May and everything, too.”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  I bet May would love to do that.”

“I can text you the link again — and this time, _actually_ read it,” MJ said with a frown. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter said.  He knew how much she hated it when people called her ma’am.  “I should probably get going.  Don’t want the food to get cold.”  Peter leaned down to kiss MJ on the forehead.  She seized the opportunity to wrap her hands on his neck and kiss him even more fervently.  Afterwards, MJ drove away so casually while Peter stood on the sidewalk, still reeling and breathless from the kiss.

* * *

Come Monday when Peter picked up Ned for school, there were a million things that Peter wanted to talk to Ned about, first being the fire that happened a few days ago.  Peter liked having Ned around.  They’ve been friends for so long that they were at that point in their relationship where they could talk to each other about what’s happening in their life without be worrying about judgement.  But when something serious was happening, Ned wasn’t always the best person to talk to.  Ned didn’t know much about what had happened, nor was he good at keeping his emotions in checked.  The entire drive to school, Ned’s face was contorted into a look of genuine shock and terror.  This sort of reaction wasn’t really what Peter needed right now, though it was nice for Peter to vent what he was feeling.  When he got to what happened at the restaurant with the pissed off waiter and Tony Stark’s reaction, Peter figured Ned was going to burst with emotion.

“Are you okay?” Ned asked when Peter pulled into the parking lot at Midtown; there were still people that seemed to forget that Peter had the Audi because they gasped, stared and pointed. 

Peter shrugged.  “It’s kind of a harsh reality check if you ask me.  Every Avenger out there has a pretty bad guilt complex.”

“At least you’re not the Scarlet Witch,” Ned said.

Peter frowned.  He didn’t know too much about Wanda Maximoff, but Peter knew she’s made some pretty big mistakes while she’s had her powers, from putting nightmares into all the Avengers’ heads to accidentally setting fire to the hospital in Lagos.  “Yeah.  I guess that’s true.  Look, no one has ever really been all that hurt whenever I’m involved in a fight.  I just can’t imagine how I’d react if I accidentally kill someone.  I’m just scared that I’m going revert back to what happened last year.”

“Come on, dude, look at how far you’ve gotten since last year,” Ned said.  “Besides, Dr. Strange is basically your on-call therapist and Tony Stark is your on-call stepdad.”

“Where the hell did you get that from?” Peter asked as he and Ned got out of his car.

“Where did I get what from?”

“On-call stepdad?  On-call therapist?” Peter repeated.  “Seriously, if Dr. Strange heard you say that he’d probably blast you to a completely different dimension.”

Ned gasped.  “Dude, that’s _awesome_.”  Peter’s best friend shook his head quickly, as though trying to knock the fantasy growing in his mind out in order to answer Peter’s question.  “But, seriously, that’s what the news is saying.  There was this tabloid article in the papers about how Dr. Strange is taking care of Spider-Man’s psychological and emotional problems and Iron-Man is basically his mentor.  Seriously, don’t you read?”

“What?  Come on, man.  You know I only read _real_ news articles,” Peter said.

They were already up the stairs and inside Midtown now.  Peter wasn’t too excited for classes that day since he was supposed to have a quiz in AP Chemistry and he’s been worrying about that all morning and all of last night.  Other than that, Peter was looking forward to the first official Decathlon practice today.  Flash, Gwen and a couple other of the seniors were in charge of recruiting new people for the team.  They tabled in front of the cafeteria last week, and all of the names were submitted to Mr. Harrington, Peter and MJ for reviewing.  Peter didn’t recognize a lot of the names, but there were a good number of people vying to be on the nationally-ranked decathlon team (getting to say that out loud made Peter feel pretty good about himself).  All weekend, MJ and Peter were emailing Mr. Harrington back and forth about their first practice today.  Neither Peter nor MJ had been captain of the team at the beginning of the year, so they needed plenty of advice and guidance to figure out their plans for this week’s practices.  Peter even reached out to Liz, the captain for part of last year, and she responded with a lengthy two page email.

When Peter was dismissed for his last period class, he found MJ rummaging through his locker.  At the beginning of the year, MJ was running late for a meeting with a teacher and didn’t have time to put her books in her own locker so Peter gave her the combination to his.  Ever since then, she’s been using Peter’s locker as though it’s hers.  “Sorry, I’m pretty sure your locker is down the hall,” Peter joked.

“True, but I like this one so much more,” MJ muttered.  She closed his locker, holding the decathlon binder in her hand.  “Did you talk to May about volunteering at the soup kitchen together?”

“Yes,” Peter said.  “She sounds pretty excited about it.”  And Peter wasn’t exaggerating.  When May found out that Mr. Li was the person running the soup kitchen, she was so excited about it Peter wouldn’t be surprised if his aunt started volunteering more than just one day a week.

“So I can tell Mr. Li to expect you _and_ May every Sunday,” MJ said.

“Absolutely,” Peter said.  “Do you have everything you need for decathlon practice?”

MJ held up the binder.  “Yep,” she said.

“Sweet,” Peter said.  “What about setting up for practice?  What do we need to do?”

“It’s mostly just rearranging the tables,” MJ said.

 “Hey, Parker, Jones, if you two weren’t planning on making out before decathlon practice, the rest of us are going to Mr. Delmar’s store down the street,” Flash said, so loud that Peter felt like everyone in the hallway could him.  “Do you guys want to come with us?”

“I don’t know.  I was really looking forward to making out with Peter,” MJ said under her breath.

Jason groaned.  “God, can you guys stop?  I think I just lost my appetite.”

MJ and Peter just laughed.  It was nice to be able to joke with Flash and Jason again, after everything that happened last year with Peter and everything that came to light with MJ’s family during their national competition last year, too.  Not that the decathlon team knew the entire story — there was too much baggage and too many secrets that kept MJ and Peter from divulging the _whole_ story to their friends.  Even then, just knowing something so significant about MJ and Peter was enough to strengthen the bond that everyone on the decathlon team shared. 

“Seriously, are you guys coming?” Flash asked.

“I could go for some food,” Peter admitted, glancing at MJ.  “But if we need to stay and set up for practice today, I’d be fine with that.”

MJ shrugged.  “We can always make Flash and the others set everything up.”

The entire team had gathered by the front of the Midtown.  All of Peter’s close friends were waiting out front: Ned talking with Sally and Abraham; Gwen, Cindy and Betty laughing over something on Gwen’s phone; Isabella looking as though she was trying to impress a couple of freshman the Decathlon team was trying to recruit.  When Peter, MJ, Jason and Flash were in sight, the team excitedly greeted the four of them.  Last year, Peter and MJ normally avoided going with the team to these pre-practice runs to Mr. Delmar’s store for a variety of reasons (saving money, other responsibilities or avoiding social interactions) so everyone was pretty ecstatic to know that they were going. 

Ned was the first person to come up to Peter and MJ with a smile.  “You guys are actually coming today!” Ned exclaimed.  He patted Peter on the back.  “I was getting tired of buying you food before our practices.”

“Dude, I _always_ pay for our takeout whenever you come over to watch _Star Wars_!” Peter said.

MJ looked down at Peter and Ned with a frown, but she couldn’t keep a straight face around them.  She grinned.  “Losers, can you keep your nerding out to a minimum when I’m around?” MJ asked.

“I thought we got past you calling us losers,” Peter protested.

“Nope,” MJ said as she took the lead in front of the team on the way to the grocery store.  Peter and Ned hurried forward to catch up with her. 

It was a nice day out, and Peter and his friends had an equally nice conversation about how all the seniors were stressed out over what colleges they were applying to.  The conversation began with Gwen bringing up Liz and how much everyone missed her on the team.  Gwen and Betty, who were Liz’s closest friends, were telling everyone how Liz got into John Hopkins University on a pretty good scholarship.  Not surprising.  She was honestly one of the smartest people on the team last year.

“I wish we could just skip the phase of stressing out about which schools we could go to and get to the part where we can finally enjoy senior year,” Gwen said.

Peter cared about where Gwen and her friends were going off to school, especially since Peter knew he probably wouldn’t be able to see Gwen or Betty much after they leave.  He wished he could have such free and easy conversations about college the way that they could.  All they worried about was what dorms they would live in or whether or not they would make it into their top-choice schools.  With Peter, he was worried about whether he would _live_ to make it to college or how being Spider-Man would affect his ability to attend a university.  If Peter does go to college, which was still questionable in his mind since he was so busy saving New York and everything, he would probably go to somewhere in New York.  Empire State University was his top choice, or maybe NYU.  Really, Peter had always dreamed of following the footsteps of his mentor, Tony Stark, and go to MIT.  That didn’t seem realistic, though.  Peter was meant to stay in New York, not to mention Peter couldn’t afford to go to MIT. 

They just arrived to Mr. Delmar’s convenient store.  Mr. Delmar, a short stout man, was leaning against the register looking awfully bored.  When the mass of teenagers came walking into his store, however, he straightened up.  “Ah!  Mr. Parker, I’ve been waiting for you!  And you brought your friends!”

“Hope you’re ready for the after-school rush,” Peter said.  While one of the workers there, Mr. Delmar’s youngest nephew, took everyone’s orders, Peter went to the side to talk to Mr. Delmar.  “How’s business been?”

“Alright,” Mr. Delmar said.  “How’s school been?”  It was the same old conversation the two of them always had when Peter came here after school.

“Eh,” Peter admitted.  “Starting to enjoy a little more.”

“That’s good.  It means you’re maturing,” Mr. Delmar said as he finished ringing up Gwen.  “Thought about college yet?”

“Gotta graduate first,” Peter joked.

“ _Please_ , smart kid like yourself?” Mr. Delmar said.  “You’ll be fine.”

“That’s what everyone says,” Peter said.

“Keep bringing your friends down here with you,” Mr. Delmar said.  “It’s good for my business.”

“‘Course,” Peter said.  He looked behind him to see that most of his friends were eating their sandwiches and snacks outside.  “I’ll be back!”

“I expect so!” Mr. Delmar shouted back as Peter left to join the rest of the decathlon team.

Peter wasn’t sure how much of the conversation he had missed, but now everyone was talking about some huge party that happened over the weekend.  Peter settled next to MJ and listened: since it was the beginning of the year, that meant it was football season (even though the Midtown football team was a complete joke).  Football games, win or lose, meant that there was pregaming and after parties and all the craziness in between.  And when the team actually won, like they did last Friday, Flash throws the biggest, most wildest parties of the year back at his place.  Peter remembered hearing something about it, but he didn’t go the game or the party.  Anyway, Betty apparently got trashed that night and now, her friends were recounting all of the stupid things she did that night.

“I can’t believe you made out with Donald from the football team.  You are _never_ living that down,” Cindy said, laughing.

Betty shook her head.  “Come on.  He’s a sweet guy.  Plus, he’s into me and I’m into him.  What more could a girl want?”

“How about a guy with a brain?” Flash said.  “Come on.  Everyone knows Donald has an IQ of—”

“Flash, don’t be such a dick,” Gwen said.

“Yeah, didn’t that girl from Manhattan High dump you a couple weeks ago because she got sick of your personality?” MJ added with a sly tone of voice.

“Whatever.  Facts don’t lie,” Flash said.  “Besides, you guys shouldn’t act too surprised.  Donald’s had a hard-on for Betty ever since freshman year.”

“Oh god, Flash.  Why do you always—,” Betty started, though she was interrupted with the sound of a loud car speeding through the street.  She frowned.  “ _Ugh!_ I don’t understand why people want such loud, obnoxious cars.”

“Because girls think it’s hot when guys have cars like that,” Flash said, grinning.

“No.  We _really_ don’t,” Gwen said. 

Flash rolled his eyes.  “Hey, Parker, does your new Audi make sounds like that when you rev its engine?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Peter said.  “Like Betty said, it’s kind of obnoxious.”

“Bet MJ sounds like that when you rev her engine,” Flash said with a grin.  Gwen and Betty both smacked Flash, who deserved it after that comment.

Peter groaned in disgust.  “Come on, man!  What the hell?”

MJ took out her pencil case from her bag and raised her arm.  In the split second that MJ was about to turn around and throw something at Flash, it seemed like the world had come to bone-chilling halt around Peter.  As though MJ, Flash, Ned, Gwen, all of his friends were frozen where they stood.  The sensation of electricity shot up Peter’s spine and exploded in frenzy at the base of Peter’s head.  He felt the hair on his arms stand straight up, his muscles tense, his heart start beating faster.  _Something was wrong._ Very wrong, and Peter had less than a fraction of a second to react.

“GET DOWN!” Peter shouted. 

His brain stopped working as he let the spider-senses take control of his body.  Peter grabbed MJ and Ned first, yanking them to the ground.  They both slammed onto the cement with a thud.  Peter genuinely hoped neither of them had any serious injuries besides maybe some cuts or bruises, but right now, that didn’t matter.  His friends still hadn’t moved, either, probably because whatever threat Peter knew was coming hadn’t hit yet.  They probably figured he was having a panic attack like he had when he attacked Flash last year.  But that wasn’t the case this.  This was different.  This was _real_ , and Peter knew it.  So forget what he was friends would think of him now.  Peter leaped forward, taking down Flash, Gwen and Abraham, which was all he had time for.

 _CRACK!_ The sound of the first gunshot erupting was earsplitting.  _CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK!_ The bullets were going at rapid fire now.  One after another after another.  In the midst of the chaos, of the screams coming from his friends and the civilians are him, Peter’s senses helped hone in just enough to know what was happening around him: some tan small car with no plates was barreling down the road, carelessly scraping and hitting against any car that got in their way.  Bullets had splayed across the sides of Mr. Delmar’s establishment, up and down the walls, ricocheting off of the metal light poles.  The assault only lasted a couple of seconds, but it left the surrounding area reeling.  People were screaming, crying, shouting to make sure the people around them were okay.  Cars had crashed into other cars.  Civilians were pushing through others, scrambling to get to safety.  It was chaos. 

Seconds later after the attack, the only person Peter focused in on was MJ.  “ _GO!”_ she mouthed as she slowly pushed herself up off of the ground.

Peter used the chaos to his advantage.  His friends were still scrambling to get off the ground, to get inside where they could be safe.  Everyone was so busy worrying about themselves that no one seemed to notice Peter launching himself toward one of the deserted, open alleyways.  He spared one glance to his friends, watching as Flash was practically carrying a disorientated Betty off the streets.  A second passed and his friends disappeared behind the mass of terrified people.  As much as Peter wanted to check on his friends, he couldn’t worry about them right now.  Peter tucked himself behind a couple of nasty-smelling garbage cans before yanking his sleeve up and pressing the button in the center of the watch-like device around his wrists. 

Over the past couple of months, Tony has been reinventing some of his gear to be more time efficient, more compact and overall more effective.  After extensive testing and trial-and-errors, Tony perfected the technology called nanomachines.  Basically, Peter’s entire Iron-Spider suit can fit into this little device that he wore around his wrist in order to, first of all, shorten the duration it takes for Peter to get the suit on as well as make it so that Peter doesn’t have to carry the suit around with him, which makes it less likely for Peter to expose his secret identity.  It was pretty cool, he had to admit.  It felt little metallic slime was gliding up his body, sealing down his clothes (another perk because it meant that Peter didn’t need to strip out of his laymen clothes to put the suit on).  He felt the mask, which was detachable, wrap itself around Peter’s head.  The slits over the eyes adjusted the light and Spider-Man was ready.

Peter wasn’t sure how much time had passed since what he now concluded to be a drive-by shooting, but he wasn’t going to waste a second.  With a flick of his wrist, the thin, durable strand of webbing attached itself to the corner of the high-rise building right next to Mr. Delmar’s convenient store.  Peter got a running start, kicked off the sidewalk and went spiraling around the corner and down the street.  The crowd below of terrified citizens looked up at Spider-Man, some cheering out the vigilante’s name.  “Karen!” Peter exclaimed, trying hard to tune out the urge to check on his friends.  “Find me those guys!”

“Take a left and move fast.  You’re going to lose them!” Karen yelled.

Peter followed her instructions without a hitch.  Thanks to all the work he’s been putting in to training this summer, flying around busy streets, contouring his body in the perfect way to maximize his energy and time came naturally.  Instincts and skills told Peter when exactly he needed to detach from the current web his was using and fling another to just the right building to keep him moving at the perfect speed.  Even though Peter knew he was starting to overthink the situation, even though he knew in the back of his mind that this was the most action Peter had seen in what felt like months, Peter’s confidence was still high.  _He could do this.  He_ had _to do this._

The technology in the Iron-Spider was amazing.  All while Peter was flying through the streets, his eyes were scanning the cars and the people he was passing.  Blue lights flashed over every object, face and licenses plate until the suit dialed in on the car the shooters’ were using.  Once recognizing the car, the lights turned orange.  “Got it!” Peter shouted.  “Yes!”  Peter lowered his web to get on the same level as the car.  Most of the other vehicles had swerved out of the way, which meant that Peter had a clear path to the vehicle.  First things first, Peter needed to find a way to stop the car from getting any further, and there was only way that Peter figured he could accomplish this goal.  Peter webbed up the front and back doors on both sides so that the shooters inside wouldn’t be able to escape.  Then, Peter attached one web to the trunk door of the car and another to a bench across the street.  Immediately, the car groaned at the pressure of Peter suddenly yanking the car back.  “Come on, Spider-Man.  _Come on!”_ he grunted.

Smoke from the tires burning against the road filled the air, but Peter wasn’t going to let the car go.  Civilians turned to stare and point as the vigilante held onto the vehicle with all his might.  He could feel his strength diminishing, his arms cramp up as he held onto the car.  His spider-senses suddenly suggested that something was wrong.

“No, no!” Peter shouted.

He felt the web attached to the bench snap.  No.  It wasn’t the web that snapped.  It was the bench itself.  The metal creaked under the force of the car trying to peel away and the nails, or whatever attached the bench to the ground, just _broke_.  Up flew the bench and was about to hit Peter straight in the face.  The spider-senses prevented that from happening.  Peter leapt to the side just in time for the bench to go clattering into a parked car.  Now that there was nothing keeping the car from moving, the tires screeched as the vehicle sped forward uncontrollably.  Peter felt his feet lift off the ground momentarily as he shot forward.  Only, they didn’t get far because something shot out from the sides of Peter’s suit.  Whatever it was jerked Peter back and the car once again was straining to move.  Peter looked around to see that what looked like four metal legs were jammed deep into the road, securing Peter were he stood.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Karen, what the hell are these?!” Peter gasped.

“What do you think, Peter?  Metal legs,” she said.  Though Peter felt like she was talking back to him, she still had this sweet tone of voice.

“This is… _awesome_!” Peter yelled.

Confident in these legs, he supposed he would call them, Peter focused entirely on getting the car to him.  Mustering up all the energy Peter had left, he began to literally drag the car closer to him.  He felt his muscles shake as he pulled on the web.  Even though every muscle in his body, even the muscles in his face, were quaking with exhaust, Peter was inching the car closer and closer to him.  This was going to work!  Spider-Man was going to catch the bad guys and—

“Michelle Jones is calling you.  Should I send her to voicemail?” Karen asked.

“Uh,” Peter grunted as he yanked harder.  “No.  No, patch her through!”  Peter figured that she wouldn’t be calling if there wasn’t something seriously wrong.

The call connected.  “Peter!” MJ whispered.  Peter’s senses were honed enough that he could hear what sounded like gargled moaning and sobbing in the background of the call.  And judging by the sound of MJ’s voice, he knew she was terrified.  He hadn’t heard her sound this scared since she called him last year to tell him about her father.  “Peter, you need to get back here!”

“What’s going on?” Peter strained to say.  “I’m kind of in the middle of something!”

“It’s Betty!  She got shot, Peter!  The ambulances won’t be able to make it here soon because of all the car crashes!” MJ exclaimed.

“What?!” Peter yelled.  Peter was half-interrupted by the sound of a metal splintering off.  Instead of pulling the car closer to him, Peter just managed to rip the trunk door right off of its hinges.  It came flying toward Peter.  The sheer shock of hearing that one of his classmates got shot messed with his head so the spider-senses were absolutely useless.  The car door came crashing against Peter.  “ _Shit!”_ Peter hissed, eyes watering with pain as he was thrown onto the ground, the metal legs that were once holding him folding uselessly under him.  The vehicle, trunk door-less, went speeding off; Peter never got a good look at the guys in the car. 

Peter thought about pursuing the car again but the sound of MJ’s choked cry kept Peter frozen where he stood.  “You need to get her to the hospital! _Now_ , or else she might not make it!”

That was enough for Peter to give up on pursuing the bad guys.  Peter figured there would be other ways to track down those guys, but there was only one way to make sure that Betty lived.  That was to get her to the hospital.  Helping his friends, helping the people of New York would _always_ take precedence over catching bad guys.  Protecting had to be Spider-Man’s job.  So, Peter didn’t look back at the vehicle speeding away because he knew Spider-Man was needed somewhere else.  He got a running start, flung a web at an awning attached to a building across the street and flew in the opposite direction of the car.  Instead of letting himself think about what MJ had told him, knowing full-well that picturing Betty _shot_ would cloud up his thoughts and instincts, Peter focused on his movements.  He was swift, elegant and fast, and before he knew it, Peter saw MJ and his friends.

MJ, of course, was the first person that Peter noticed.  She was scanning the sky, he hands clenched together into fists.  The one thing Peter knew about MJ was that she hardly showed emotions on her sleeve, so seeing her look as terrified as she did made Peter feel as equally terrified.  To make matters worse, Peter could see that the white shirt she was wearing was soaked with blood.  Beside her, Flash, Jason and Gwen were hovering over who Peter only could assume was Betty.  He couldn’t see Betty, though, because concerned citizens and the other decathlon members surrounded Flash, Jason and Gwen.  People were yelling and crying over the phone and to each other.  The streets were completely backed up, vehicles having crashed into other vehicles and some completely stalling in the road to check on Betty.

Peter landed gracefully on the ground and ran over to the crowd.  Ned and MJ were the first two people to greet Peter.  Peter had the strong urge to hug the two of them because he had honestly never seen them look so scared.  Only, Peter was supposed to be Spider-Man right now, not Peter Parker.  Michelle Jones and Ned Leeds were supposed to be two mere strangers, _civilians_ that Peter had never met before.  Even though everyone was pay attention to Betty, he didn’t want to risk turning MJ and Ned into a spectacle.  “Where’s the, uh — I heard there was a…”  Peter stopped himself.  He felt like he was dehumanizing the situation, and he couldn’t do that.  Not to Betty _._ “Where is she?”

MJ didn’t care that other people were watching.  She threw her arms around Peter.  “Thank god,” she whispered.  At this point, no one cared that some scared teenager was hugging New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.  She kept her hand on Peter’s shoulder as she hurried him toward Betty.  “She’s over here,” she said.

“Guys, I’m sorry,” Peter said, “Please, just…”  No one was listening to him. 

“Spider-Man’s coming through!  Get the hell out of his way!” MJ yelled.  

The crowd around Peter and MJ went silent.  The gaze of strangers’ left and right turned to stare at Peter, and the piercing stare of his friends made Peter feel even more stressed out.  Peter stopped short of Flash, Gwen and Jason.  “Guys, I, uh…”  Peter tried to make his voice sound deeper so that his friends wouldn’t recognize him.  “Can you let me through?  I’m here to help.”

“Gwen,” Flash said, but Gwen didn’t listen.

“I can’t leave her.  She needs — someone has to put pressure on her wound,” Gwen stammered through tears.

“It’s okay.  She can stay,” Peter said.  “I just… let me see her, at least.”  He glanced at Flash and Jason, which indicated for them to get up and give Peter a clear view of Betty. 

Peter felt his stomach lurch forward at he got a good look at his friend.  Betty’s face was clammy and pale, her blonde shiny hair sticking to the sides of her face.  Her cheeks were tear-streaked, her mascara running.  Judging by the way that her eyes were barely staying open and her breathing was uneven, Peter could tell she was seconds away from losing consciousness.  Just last year in December Peter had been shot in the middle of rounds, so Peter knew firsthand just how unbearable it felt to get shot.  For Peter, it was a flesh wound.  His instincts had driven him to move out of the way just in time for the bullet to merely scrap the side of chest.  Plus his enhanced healing abilities meant that the pain was at least slightly subdued.  But Betty… she was shot in her lower stomach.  Blood was pooled around her, soaking through her shirt, all over her arms and hands and hair.  Gwen was using her own sweater to apply pressure to Betty’s wound.

“Oh shit…” Peter muttered.

“Help her!” Gwen sobbed.  “Please!  She’s my best friend.”

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, holding his hands up.  “I’ll get her to the hospital.”  Even then, Gwen didn’t seem too likely to let her friend go.  Peter put his arm on Gwen’s shoulder.  “You did a good job putting pressure on that wound, but if you want her to live, I am your best bet at getting your friend to the hospital.”

“Gwen, let Spider-Man take her,” MJ said, firmly.

Gwen sniffled.  “Okay, okay… just, please make sure she’s okay,” Gwen managed.  Flash put an arm around Gwen and helped to ease her off the ground.

Peter knelt down beside Betty.  “Karen, tell the hospital I’m on the way,” Peter said.

“Already did,” Karen said.  “They’re prepping for her now.  And they’re sending additional EMTs to this location as we speak.”

With that, Peter gathered Betty in his arms.  He had to be as careful as he’s ever been.  He attempted to pick her up one way but the spider-senses let him know that that particular position wouldn’t work.  Peter tried again, this time successful.  When Peter was sure of the safest way to carry Betty, as well as the fastest route to the hospital, Peter was off.  Fortunately, the nearest hospital wasn’t far and as Karen had said, emergency room doctors were already waiting outside with a stretcher and some other hospital machines that Peter didn’t recognize.  All the doctors pointed at Peter, ushering for him to the ground.  Peter landed comfortably and swiftly before running forward.

The doctors barely gave Spider-Man a passing thought.  They got Betty situated onto the stretcher, hooked her up to a couple of machines and then began running.  _Fast._ Peter wasn’t sure what Karen had told them, but clearly they weren’t interested in getting Spider-Man’s input on the situation.  Peter stood there dumbly for a long second.  _She has to be okay.  She has to live._ Peter couldn’t bear it if another person he loved died.  The sheer thought of losing Betty was enough to set up a slew of unwanted reactions.  Peter recognized the signs of a panic attack coming again: the heavy breathing, the dizziness.

Not now.  _Not now._

Peter’s phone, which was synced to his suit, rung.  It was a call from Tony.  Even though Peter couldn’t see his mentor, nor had they even had a real conversation yet, just seeing Tony’s name on the screen grounded him.  Gave him something to focus on.  “Mr. Stark?” Peter said, sighing in relief.

“Peter?  What the hell is happening?  Your AI activated your distress signal!” Tony said.

“It’s… there’s a drive-by shooting by Mr. Delmar’s convenient store,” Peter managed.  “I’m… I’m okay.  I had… my friend got shot so I never got the guys.”

“Okay.  It’s okay, kid,” Tony reassured.  “Where’s your friend now?”

“I got her to the hospital.  The doctors have her,” Peter said.  The adrenaline was starting to dissipate, and Peter could feel his body start to weaken.  The fact it was now registering in Peter’s mind that he had his friend’s blood all over his suit wasn’t helping, either.

“And you’re okay?” Tony asked.

“I’m okay.  I’m not hurt,” Peter said.

“Okay.  I’m on my way,” Tony said, which was reassuring to hear.  “Peter, you should get back to your friends.”

“Right,” Peter whispered.  “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Stark.”


	3. Falling into Place

_“Patience is not an ability to wait,_

_but the ability to keep a good attitude while waiting”_

~ Joyce Meyer ~

Chapter Three: Falling into Place

 _Get to your friends_.  That was the only thing Peter could focus on right now as he swung from building to building.  If he didn’t get to his friends right now, they would surely notice that Peter had been missing for this long.  Finding his way back to Mr. Delmar’s place would be no problem, but trying to come up with a good excuse as to why Peter was always absent when something bad happened to the team was starting to get harder and harder.  He stopped just short of where his friends were still waiting. 

“There’re no security cameras down that alley, right?” Peter asked.

“No.  You should be fine,” Karen said.

Peter didn’t need any other instructions.  He ducked into the empty alley to deactivate his suit.  The nanomachines slowly began to peel off of his skin.  What felt like marbles slid down Peter’s arms and legs and off of his head until all the nanomachines that made up the Iron-Spider suit had disappeared back into the device around his wrist.  He roughed up his hair a little bit and went running down the street to find his friends.  They were still right in front of Mr. Delmar’s establishment, huddled together in tears.  The area was crawling with EMTs and police officers, checking up on all the civilians to make sure everyone was okay.  Most of the yelling and running had ceased, but people were in hysterics now as it started to dawn on them that they were just caught in the midst of a drive-by shooting.  People were being given blankets and water for the shock, being told repeatedly to sit down and try to calm down.

Betty was the only person who seriously could have been killed in the shooting, but there were plenty of other people who were injured.  A few civilians had gotten shot in the arm or leg, including Mr. Delmar’s nephew.  All the gunshot victims were being wheeled out on stretchers to the ambulance, which, judging by the loudness of the sirens, were probably about a block away.  Other than the gunshot wound victims and possibly a few broken bones from falling or trying to take cover, mostly everyone left with nothing but bruises and scrapes.  Peter studied his friends for a second to see if any of them were seriously injured.  It was hard to tell, though, because Peter knew they had probably come into contact Betty, which meant that there was no one for Peter to tell whether the blood on their clothes was theirs or Betty’s.

“Hey!” Peter shouted, trying to feign breathlessness.  He ran up to his friends.  They all turned to stare at Peter in confusion and shock.  “What happened?  Where did you guys go?”  Peter felt really shitty acting like he didn’t have a clue what was happening.

“ _‘Where did we go?’_ ” Flash repeated, angrily.  “We’re all been here.  Where the hell have you been?”

“I — I got lost in the crowd.  I kept running.  The next thing I knew I was block away and you guys were gone.  I called Tony Stark already.  He should be on his way, if that helps,” Peter said.  He took a moment to look already until he found MJ.  “Hey, are you alright?  Why — why are you covered in blood?”

“It’s Betty,” MJ said.  “Peter, she got shot.”

“What?!” Peter gasped.  “Where is she?  Is she going to be okay?”

“We don’t know.  Spider-Man took her to the hospital,” Flash said.

“Now we just have to wait to find out if she’s okay,” Gwen said, holding back a sob.  “Ugh, god.  I just want to go home.”

“Are we not allowed to leave?” Peter asked, though he already knew the answer to that.

Cindy shook her head.  “The police want to take our statements.” 

She pointed to some of the officers talking to Mr. Delmar.  Peter internally groaned.  He hadn’t even thought of Mr. Delmar, or the business owners around him.  Perhaps it was good for business at first that Spider-Man came to fix up Mr. Delmar’s establishment after some of Adrian Toomes’s goons blew it to pieces.  But now, Mr. Delmar’s convenient store was the scene of a drive-by shooting where a teenage girl had just been shot _and_ the suspects had gotten away.  No one would want to come near this part of town!  Not to mention, bullet holes marred the walls of the Mr. Delmar’s store, as well as covered the sidewalk around him.  His windows were shattered and inside, shelves were knocked over, the small fridge of drinks completely shattered.  Why would someone want to do this Mr. Delmar?  What kind of enemies did Mr. Delmar have?  (Peter was assuming that Mr. Delmar was the target of this attack because his business had the most damage).

“Did someone call Betty’s parents?” Abraham asked.

“Yeah,” Cindy said.  She was trying to hold back tears.  “They said they’re on the way to the hospital and that they’re going to call me the minute they have any news.”

“What about Mr. Harrington?” Jason said.  “Someone should tell him that we’re probably not going to make it to practice.”

“I already did,” MJ said.  “You guys should have all call your parents.  They’ll probably be worried sick.”

Mostly everyone on the decathlon team had called their parents already to let them know what was happening and most of their parents were already on their way to find out what was going on.  That reminded Peter, however, that he needed to call May.  She answered before the first ring even finished.  “Peter?!” she gasped.  “God, Tony called me about a… a _shoot-out!_ What is he talking about?”

Peter should have known that Tony already called May.  They were the closest thing that he had to parents, so of course when something remotely bad happened to Peter and his friends, they would talk.  May must have figured that Spider-Man had been in pursuit of the shooters, which meant double the amount of worrying from May.  “May,” Peter said, “May, really I’m alright.  I’m not hurt.  Okay, I’m a little banged up but nothing too severe.”

“Are you sure?  Should I come down to see you?” May said.

“Yeah, if you want,” Peter said.  “Tony is already on his way down.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  Thank god you’re okay,” May said.  “Did anyone get hurt that you know?  I heard it was Mr. Delmar’s place… is he…”

“No.  Mr. Delmar is fine.  It’s Betty, May.  Betty got shot… and they’re not sure if she’s going to make it,” Peter muttered.  Saying the words out loud made the situation all the more dire.  Peter has been trying to get better at his guilt complex.  Blaming himself for what happened to Betty wouldn’t help the situation at all.  Peter tried to warn his friends.  He attempted to go after the bad guys _(and failed)._ He brought Betty to the hospital when MJ called him.  There was nothing more that Peter could have done and he had to accept that.  “May, I’m scared,” Peter finally said.  “I’m really scared.”

“You did everything you could,” May said.  Peter head the sound of clattering metal in the background.  “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.

“Nothing,” May said.  “I’m just — I’m trying to get my stuff to meet you and I knocked a lamp over.  It’s not a big deal.  I’ll be there.  Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

Peter almost said yes but then, he heard the sound of strong wind and lots of shouting.  Peter knew it wasn’t a threat since his spider-senses weren’t going off, though, and it wasn’t wind making all the noise.  It was the repulsors whirring as Iron-Man, in all his glory, gracefully landed down on the ground.  The civilians around Iron-Man parted to make room for the Avenger.  Cameras were out, the police officers looked a little put out, but nonetheless, everyone seemed relieved.  The mask of the Iron-Man suit detracted similar to how Peter’s suit worked: little machines peeling back to expose Mr. Stark’s concerned looking face as he took in the horror of the scene in front of him.

“What the hell happened here?” Tony asked.

“You’re too late,” one of the police officers said.  They pointed down the street where the drivers had gone.  “Spider-Man went after them but had to come back to take some girl to the hospital.  I doubt you’ll be able to find them right now.”

“That’s… that’s okay.  I’ll get my AI working on tracking them,” Tony said.  He looked around.  “Do we need to get anyone to the hospital?”

“We’re alright,” an EMT said.  “Most of the gunshot victims are already en route to the hospital.”

“Guess I missed all the action, huh,” Tony said.  A second later, the armor started to peel away, slide down his legs and arms and chest until it disappeared into a small gadget in the center of Tony’s chest.  Tony Stark finally met eyes with his protégé, looking down at the teenager with concerned eyes.  “Come here, kid,” Tony said as he outstretched his arms.  It didn’t matter that the entire decathlon team was staring or that the people on the streets were watching with curiosity.  Tony hugged Peter with fervency.  Even though the spider-senses made it much harder for Peter to be killed, the thought of losing Peter was always in the back of Tony’s mind.  “It’s alright.  You’re okay.” 

Peter knew he was okay, and that made him feel all the more worse.  _He_ was okay, but his friend wasn’t.  Stubbornly, Peter bit back tears.  “I tried to stop them,” Peter choked into his mentor’s ear.  They were speaking so quietly that no one would have been able to hear what they were saying.  “I tried but… I — I had to get Betty.”

“You did the right thing,” Tony reassured.  He let Peter go before glaring at the staring civilians.  “Come on, now.  We’re all humans, here.  Can’t two people just have a little bit of privacy?”

Having Tony Stark snap at you was enough for the people on the streets to mind their own business.  Civilians went back to huddling together, while the police officers and EMTs hurried up and down the sidewalks to do their jobs.  Peter and Tony went to the stand with the rest of the decathlon team.  Normally, being in the same area as Tony Stark would have made Ned and even Flash swoon, but the shock and terror was starting to settle in among Peter’s friends.  After checking up on Peter’s injuries, which was nothing more than some bruises after getting hit in the face with the car door, Tony began making his way around the decathlon team to check up on everyone.  A few moments after Tony arrived, a very worried Mr. Harrington and an equally worried flee of decathlon parents came rushing forward.  Most parents had already showed up by now, clutching onto their child.  Mr. Harrington was going around to every student to check up on them.  Peter saw Shelly and Kevin coming to see if MJ was okay.  May, who opted against using her car as she assumed traffic would be backed up from the shooting, had sprinted from their apartment all the way to Mr. Delmar’s establishment.  She was out of breath and sweaty and completely beside herself.

“Peter!” she exclaimed as she threw her arms around him.

“I’m alright, May,” Peter managed.

 “God, why do bad things always happen to your decathlon team?” she muttered, pulling Peter into another hug and pressing a kiss on his temple.  She ran her fingers across his tender cheeks; she could feel how swollen Peter’s cheek was becoming.  “What happened to your face?”

“I got hit in the face with a car door.  It’s a long story,” Peter muttered.

“We’ll get you some ice later,” May promised. 

She left her hands on Peter’s shoulders as they joined the rest of the terrified parents.  May and Shelly found each other quickly.  The two women greeted each other with a hug before Shelly went to check on Peter and May went to see if MJ was okay.  Shelly took a look at Peter’s face, said something along the lines of ‘god, you’re going to have such a nasty bruise tomorrow’ and then went back to her niece.

Since most of the people on the decathlon team were minors, the police officers could finally interview Peter and his friends since everyone’s guardians had showed up.  Peter was one of the first people to be interviewed, though he didn’t have much of a story to tell.  Over the past couple of years since becoming Spider-Man, Peter has had to lie more times about what he was doing than he had his entire life.  He wasn’t great at lying, not that that was a bad thing, so he learned that it’s best just to keep his story simple: Peter ran ahead with the crowd.  When he felt like he was at a safe distance, Peter ducked into an alley where he called Tony Stark (the police officers looked pretty doubtful at that comment so Tony had to intervene and tell the officers about the fake internship).  Peter explained away the bruises he got in the fight by saying that, in the chaos of escaping the shooting, he took a few elbows against his face.  The only follow-up questions Peter had to answer were about the shooters and the car: he remembered the type of car, the model and the color, but there were no plates and he never got a good look at the shooters.

“I’m sorry.  I know this isn’t much,” Peter said.  “I was just so scared.  I was just trying to run away.”

The officer taking his statement shook his head.  “It’s not to worry, kid.  Your biggest concern was your safety, and that’s not unreasonable.  Is there anything else you’d like to add?”  Peter shook his head.  The less he says to the police officers, the less likely they or his friends will be suspicious of Peter. 

The officers turned to interview his other friends.  The more and more Peter listened to what happened, the more angry and upset he felt.  Peter was present for the entirety of the shooting, which had only lasted for a few seconds, so no one brought up any new information on the shooters.  In fact, Peter had the most detailed account of the car.  However, hearing Gwen and Flash, who were closest to Betty at the time she was shot, recounting their reactions when they saw their friend lying on the ground in pain hurt Peter to his core.  There was no present threat, but Peter’s adrenaline was starting to pump in his veins, as though his body was trying to get him to ditch his friends and search every road within a twenty-mile radius so that he could find the shooters.

“Gary, can we take our kids back home now?” Gwen’s mom said when the police officers finished up interviewing the last round of Decathlon kids.  Gwen’s father, George Stacy, was the former captain of the police force in Manhattan.  He was a pretty austere man, but he loved his family, his job and his home immensely.  Unfortunately, a couple years ago, before Peter could ever dream of being Spider-Man and when he was still fantasizing about even being on the same street as Tony Stark, let alone work with man, Captain Stacy was killed while on the job.  After Mr. Stacy passed away, almost every police officer on the force watched over Gwen and her family.

Gerry sighed.  “Yeah.  Yeah,” he said.  He rubbed his forehead in exasperation.  “Look, I’m really sorry this happened to you kids.”  He handed out a stack of what looked like business cards to Ms. Stacy.  

“What’s this?” Ms. Stacy asked.

“This is the number to a few emotional support counselors, in case any of you guys need anything,” Gerry explained as Ms. Stacy handed out the business cards to all the parents, including May and Tony.  They both pocketed the business card.  Peter didn’t think he needed the business card since he hoped Dr. Strange would still be there to help Peter out.  Then again, Peter hasn’t heard a lot from Dr. Strange lately.  Ever since the mystical being finished, for lack-of-better-words, _counseling_ Peter, he’s been pretty MIA.  Peter figured he was out protecting earth’s reality (or something — Peter doesn’t really understand what Dr. Strange is capable of).  “I know some of you may not like the idea of counseling, but don’t be afraid to get help.”

Peter bit his lip.  He’s heard that all too much over his lifetime.   _Get help.  Get help.  Don’t afraid to reach out to people._ Hearing concerned adults tell Peter to get help was a broken record.  It didn’t bother him thinking that he might have to talk to someone else about his feelings.  Peter knew that letting others in and taking care of himself was important.  What bothered him was looking around at the faces of his friends: they looked confused and in shock as they tried to sort through their emotions after watching Betty get shot.  Flash was staring at the blood on his hands as though he thought he was stuck in some nightmare. 

After Ms. Stacy finished handing out the business cards, the families of the decathlon members dispersed.  Betty’s parents hadn’t contacted Cindy yet, but Cindy promised that the moment she heard any news, she would tell the decathlon team.  Considering that Peter’s car was still at the high school, Tony flew (yes, _flew)_ to Midtown to get the car while May and Peter walked back to his apartment.  They didn’t say a single word on the way back to their apartment.  Peter was far too distracted, thinking about the shooters and Betty and Mr. Delmar, that he didn’t think he’d be able to hold a legitimate conversation with May.  Why would someone want to harm Mr. Delmar?  What could Mr. Delmar have possibly done to piss someone off that much?  Was it even Mr. Delmar that the shooters were targeting?  Were they aiming for someone in the crowd and then shot up the street as a cover?

“Peter?” May said.

Peter looked up.  They were standing outside of their apartment.  May was on the top of the stairs, while Peter was still at the bottom, gazing at the ground.  “Oh,” Peter said.  “Sorry.  I’m just a little distracted.”

“That’s okay,” May said.  She put her arms around Peter again, guiding him up the stairs and toward their apartment.  Inside, Peter got a good idea of how panicked May must have been when she got the call from Tony.  The TV in the living room was still on, a plate of food cold and half-eaten on the coffee table.  Blankets were thrown about and one of the lamps in the kitchen was broken.  May looked around sheepishly.  “Oh, god.  I forgot how much of a mess I made.”

Peter watched as May turned the TV off and cleared her plate of food.  Peter felt so awkward standing in the middle of the living room, so he went to go get the broom.  “Here, let me help,” he offered.

May shook his head.  “No,” she said, firmly.  She looked up at Peter, and he could tell that she was trying to keep her emotions in check.  She gave him a feeble smile.  “I can take care of this.  Besides, Tony will be over soon.  Bet I can get him to do the dishes for us.”

Peter laughed.  “Yeah.  You probably could.  You could even get him to buy us a new lamp.”

May rolled her eyes.  “Let’s not take advantage of the boy guy, especially after all the times he’s saved your ass.”  She was just about finished sweeping up the sharps of glass into a pile before she turned to Peter.  “Come on.  Why don’t you sit down?” she said, pointing toward the couch.  Without waiting for Peter to respond, she guided her nephew toward the couch before she swathed him in two blankets and propped him up against a stack of pillows.  Peter thought May was being a little fussy, but she cared.

“May, really.  I’m okay,” Peter reassured her.  He brushed his fingers against his aunt’s hand.  “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“At least you _and_ Tony both called me this time,” May said.  She went to the kitchen and got a bag of frozen peas out.  She wrapped it up in a towel and handed it to Peter.  “For your face.  Do you need any ibuprofen?”

Peter shook his head.  “I’ll be alright.  Nothing I haven’t handled before.”

“You don’t have to be invincible all the time,” May chastised.  That same instant, there was a knock on the door.  “That must be Tony,” she said, and hurried to open the door open where Peter’s mentor was standing outside with Peter’s keys in his hands.  “Thanks for coming, Tony.  I really appreciate it.”  May put her hand on Tony’s shoulder before taking the keys and hanging it up by the door.

“Of course,” Tony said. 

He took in the state of the broken lamp and Peter sitting on the couch, covered in blankets even though it was still pretty warm outside.  Judging the twisted expression on Tony’s face, clearly he was distraught and worried, though the concern etched on his face was normal for anyone who was in the Avengers-business as long as Tony has been.  Without saying anything, Tony sat down beside Peter, put his arms around the teenager and hugged him, as though Peter was one who had been shot today, not Betty.  Considering that there was no one there to watch the two of them, Peter really let himself unravel in his mentor’s arms, come to terms with the fact that his friends survived something as horrible as what they just went through and to let himself think about Betty and how she _might not_ survive through the night.

Thinking about Betty hit him hard.  _She might not survive.  She might not survive._ That bullet that ripped through her chest may kill her.  It was bitter, hopeless, morbid.  Trying to be optimistic at times like this was… difficult.  Dr. Strange and Tony had worked with Peter all of last year and all during the summertime to tell Peter to handle pain differently, but it seemed so impossible right now. 

“Peter?” Tony asked.

“Betty could die, Tony…” Peter whispered.  Peter could feel the tears swelling up in his eyes.  “I — I could have stopped it.  If I hadn’t gone after those guys…”

“What did we say about blaming yourself?” Tony said.  May, who must have seen or heard Peter derailing, sat down on the couch beside her mentor.  “You can’t control everything that happens, no matter how much you try.”

Peter wiped his eyes.  _Try to be strong.  Try to be strong._ “Yeah.  Yeah, I know.”  May wrapped her arm around Peter’s waist before taking a tissue off of the table and dabbing at Peter’s cheek.  “May, May, really I’m okay.” 

His aunt leaned over to press a kiss on his temple.  “I know,” she said.

Peter tried to avoid freaking out whenever May and Tony were around.  After all, he always thought all hell would break lose whenever he came back from rounds with a bruise on his arm.  Though Peter was working on finding a healthy outlet to express his feelings, having two people that genuinely cared about him by his side helped calm his nerves.  He took a moment to gather his bearings.  Tony taught Peter a few breathing practices so he put them to use until Peter felt himself relax, felt the strong emotions slowly dissipate.  “I’m alright, guys,” Peter reassured.  They didn’t look convinced, but the two of them were such worriers that Peter figured trying to convince them that he was alright was altogether futile.  Fortunately, the two adults didn’t look like they were in the mood to argue anymore (or they had come to terms with the fact that Peter was a stubborn kid who’s gritty and strong enough to keep himself standing upright even through such traumatic events).

 May left Tony and Peter on the couch to clean up the rest of the shards of broken glass.  Tony found something on TV for Peter to watch — this reality show that was really just mindless noise — and then joined May in the kitchen.  He thought about helping her clean up the kitchen, but then he got hungry.  After some debate and little input from Peter, who was pretty indifferent on the matter of what they would be eating, Tony ordered pizza.  And lots of it.  When the delivery boy came, and was utterly surprised when he saw Tony Stark answer the door, Tony handed over a generous amount of cash.

“How much for the pizza?” May asked, grabbing for her wallet. 

Tony set down two large pizzas and a few bottles of soda on the table.  “Come on, May.  It’s on me.”

“Tony, just because you make… _millions_ more than I make doesn’t mean you have to pay for everything around,” May said.  “Besides you gave Peter _a car.”_

Tony held his hands up.  “First of all, I _lent_ Peter my car.  When he goes to college and then becomes some kind of science or tech mogul, I expect him to return the favor.  Second of all, you already have to buy a new lamp.” 

The banter between Tony and May while they served as if they were part of some wonky, dysfunctional family was undeniably funny and left this warm feeling in the pit of Peter’s stomach.  Pizza was put onto plates and cups were filled with sodas.  Peter joined the two adults at the kitchen table.  On normal nights, Peter probably could have eaten a whole pizza just by himself.  Right now, though, one look at the food in front of him and he felt sick to him stomach just smelling food.  So, Peter pushed the plate away.  The two adults looked down at him. 

“I’m really not that hungry,” Peter said. 

He expected he would have to put up a fight on not eating, but neither adults looked interested in that.  “Okay,” Tony said.

“Well, I’m hungry,” May said, smiling. 

She and Tony ate their dinner quietly.  As much as Peter could tell that they wanted to say something to him, they held it together.  When they were finished eating, Peter’s plate left untouched with what was three slices of cold sausage and pepperoni pizza, Tony and May cleared the table and Peter did the dishes.  The adults tried to protest but Peter insisted — in fact, it was nice to be doing something that could keep Peter’s mind distracted.  Tony and May picked up on the fact that Peter was trying to keep himself occupied, so when Peter was finished doing the dishes, the three of them sat down to play some board games while trying to watch a movie at the same time.  After going through all the board games in Peter and May’s small stash, it was 10:30 that night.  Peter could feel that he was starting to get tired, but that didn’t change the fact that every time he closed his eyes he kept seeing Betty’s face. 

The movie they were watching just ended, too.  As the credits started rolling, May tried to stifle a yawn.  She was leaning against the armrest of the couch barely able to keep her eyes open.  “You look like you’re ready for bed,” Tony pointed out.  He put his hand on May’s arm.

Tony’s hand barely grazing May was enough to wake her back up.  “No.  No, I’m fine,” May said.

“May, if you want, why don’t you get to bed?  I know you have work tomorrow,” Tony said.

May frowned.  “Oh, I’m fine.  I’ll probably take the day off from work if Peter wants to stay home.”

“I’ll be okay,” Peter said.  “Seriously, May, you look exhausted.  And, honestly, I’m probably just going to watch some TV right now, anyway.”  

It took Tony and Peter lots of encouragement before Peter resorted to practically dragging May into her bedroom and forcing his aunt to go to bed.  When Peter returned, Tony was bustling about in the kitchen, doing the dishes, heating up a pot of water and warming up some old pizza on the stove.  It was weird seeing Tony doing such domestic, _normal people_ things, but then again, ever since Tony took Peter on as his intern, Peter’s seen the man do _a lot_ of things Peter would have never guessed.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were hungry,” Peter said.

“It’s not for me,” Tony said.  “Come on.  You need to eat.”

“I already ate,” Peter argued.

“You’re a growing teenage boy with mutated spider-genes, and you barely ate your dinner.  I know you just went through something traumatic, but I’m not going to let you harm yourself,” Tony said.  He set the plate of pizza in front of Peter with a frown on his face.  “Now I went you to eat.  _So eat.”_ Clearly Tony wasn’t going to take no for an answer so Peter took the plate of food, settled into a comfortable position on the couch and took a bite of the pizza.  When he was trying to eat during dinner, the thought of keeping food down would simply make him sick.  Now, Peter’s stomach was growling every time he took a bit.  Then suddenly, the food was gone.  “Do you want more?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Peter said, sheepishly.

Tony put his hand on Peter’s shoulder before gathering up the plate and going back to the kitchen.  There was some shuffling around and then Tony yelled, “What kind of tea do you want?”

“Surprise me,” Peter said. 

Tony hurried to get the food prepped, which was good because the more Peter was alone, the more opportunities he could think about what had happened to today.  Fortunately, Tony sat down on the couch beside Peter a few moments later.  “Are you sure you’re alright?” Tony asked.  The older man handed Peter the cup of tea he had just finished brewing and the plate of pizza.  “Here you go.  And it’s chamomile.  With honey.”

“Thanks,” Peter muttered as he took the cup from his mentor.  Peter held the warm cup of tea in his hands, staring at the brown liquid, feeling suddenly very exhausted.  Instead of watching Peter to the point of making him uncomfortable, Tony got up from the couch and began to put away the food and honey, as well as wipe some of the counters down.  The second Tony was gone, Peter grabbed for his phone for what felt like the millionth time that night.  He tried to keep himself from getting his hopes up, especially since, when he checked his phone, there were no new messages.  “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?” Tony asked.  Tony glanced at the cell phone still in Peter’s hand.  “I know you millennials can’t go five minutes without checking their phone, but checking every two seconds seems a little excessive.”

Peter frowned.  “Cindy’s supposed to text us when she hears anything about Betty.”

“Oh,” Tony said.  Peter was waiting for the _I’m sure she’s going to be okay_ or _I wouldn’t worry_ , but that never came.  It made sense, Peter supposed.  Both Peter and Tony had been exposed to their fair share of empty promises.  There was no way for Tony to guarantee that Betty was going to live, so there was no point in saying anything.

The conversation died quickly so the older man went back to bustling about the kitchen.  Only, there was something else that was bothering Peter.  “Tony?” Peter asked.

“Yeah?” he said.  Tony, at Peter’s every beck-and-call, hurried to the teenage boy’s side.  “What’s up?”

Peter stared at his mentor for a long second.  At first, Peter was worried to say what he was really thinking, but then he realized that this was Tony.  He wasn’t just Peter’s mentor.  Ned even called the man his surrogate dad.  There was nothing for Peter to worry about, even if it meant prying into something that Tony wouldn’t want Peter prying in.  “You said your AI was looking for leads on the shooters?”

Tony frowned.  He leaned back and crossed his arms.  “Peter, I’m not sure if—”

“Tony, they shot my friend,” Peter said, bluntly.  “She might not make it through the night.”

“Peter—,” Tony started.  He sat down beside the teenager, holding his hands up.  “Peter, I understand that you’re—"

“Tony, you know I’m going to go behind your back to find these guys if you don’t tell me,” Peter said.  He wasn’t threatening Tony by any means, merely stating a fact.  “You told me to back off when Adrian Toomes was selling illegal weapons and look what happened: I botched an FBI operation and almost got a ferry blown to pieces.  Nothing good happens when you keep me in the dark because you think you’re trying to protect me, and you know I’m right!  For god sakes Tony, this happened six blocks away from me!”  Peter hadn’t realized that he had gotten up from where he was sitting and had raised his voice.  “How do we know these people, whatever their sick motivation was behind doing this, are going to go after this apartment next?  What if May gets hurt?  What if you and I can’t get everyone to the hospital?!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Tony interrupted, holding his hands up in surrender.  He put his hands on Peter’s shoulders and pushed the teenager back onto the couch.  “Okay.  Catch your breath, kid, you’ve made your point.” 

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter stammered.  His head felt heavy.  “I didn’t mean to get so worked up.  I’m just really worried about her.”

“I know,” Tony said.  He put his arm around the teenage boy and pulled him into a half-hug.  “Why don’t you take a few days off—”

“Tony, I thought I made it clear—”

“Hear me out,” Tony said, sharply.  He wasn’t being rude and he didn’t sound angry, but Tony was firm and Peter fell silent.  “You just went through something traumatic.  You’re not going to be thinking straight when you’re so worried about what’s going on with Betty.  Let yourself process what happened before you throw yourself in the middle of a fight… and I know self-control is difficult for teenagers so, at the very least, promise me that you’re going to call me if you _do_ decide to go on rounds.  And once I figure out what’s going on with shooters or learn any new information, I promise, I’ll tell you everything I know.  Does that sound like a deal?”

All things considered, that was a pretty good offer from Tony.  Going on rounds with Tony or even waiting a day or two until Peter went on rounds was something Peter could handle.  “Yeah.  Yeah, that sounds good.”

Fortunately, Peter didn’t have to wait long to hear back from Tony.  The following day, Peter unintentionally woke up early to a mass of group texts that announced to Peter that not only was most of the decathlon team skipping school that day but also that Betty had a successful surgery.  Successful, of course, being a subjective term.  Betty was as lucky as she could have gotten considering where the bullet had hit her.  Yes, it was in her lower abdomen, but it _somehow_ missed most of the vital organs.  They were able to remove the bullet from her, too, but the timeline of her recovery was still shaky.  In fact, there wasn’t much firm information on Betty other than her organs weren’t severely damaged.  Her parents didn’t know if she had infections in her kidneys or intestines, when she would be released from the hospital or any of the long term effects.  Whether Betty lived or not was still up in the air, but things were looking… Peter wasn’t going to use the word _optimistic_ , but, at the very least, things were looking better than they had yesterday.

After getting updates on Betty’s status, Peter was about to roll back asleep.  Only, the sound of May’s voice kept him awake.  “I know I asked for those days off, but I really need to be home today,” May said.  Peter could tell that she was trying to be quiet, but Peter’s honed senses made even a whisper seem like yelling sometimes.  “I understand that I’ve called in a lot this past year, but, come on, you heard about what happened with my boy.”

Peter bit his lip.  Yawning, he flung his sheets off and opened up his door.  Sure enough, May was standing right outside, still in her robe, clutching her phone.  “May,” Peter said, still groggy from sleep.  “If you have to work, that’s okay.  I’m okay, really.” 

May frowned.  “How does a half-day sound?  I can come in this afternoon.”  There was a pause and her boss answered with what sounded like—  “ _Thank you!”_ May exclaimed.  “Yes.  I’ll see you at 1:00 today.”  She hung the phone and gave Peter a sheepish smile.  May brushed her hands against Peter’s cheek.  “I’m sorry.  Did I wake you?”

“It’s okay,” Peter said.  “I should get up, anyway.  It’s already…”  Peter stopped talking, considering that he didn’t know what time it was.

“6:30 in the morning,” May said.  “Go back to bed.”

“Really, I’m alright,” Peter said.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get today off,” May said.

“That’s alright,” Peter said.  It wasn’t like Peter could actually be mad at May’s bosses.  Though Peter stopped visiting May at work before Ben had even died, he remembered liking all of her coworkers and bosses.  From what Peter’s understood, May told her bosses everything about her life: adopting Peter after his parents died, Uncle Ben dying, Peter having breakdowns last year.  They know of all the hardships she’s faced, and they’ve been nothing short of compromising and understanding.  When May had to come back to fulltime after Ben was killed, her bosses found room for her and welcomed her with warm arms.

“What are your plans for the day?” May asked.

Peter shrugged.  “Maybe I’ll do homework.  Just whatever it takes to keep my mind off of things.”

“Heard Betty’s surgery was successful,” May said.  They were in the kitchen now.  May set out two bowls of cereal on the kitchen table, where Peter and May sat down together.

“How’d you know that?” Peter asked.

“Your principal sent out an email about what happened,” May said.  “They were asking for donations, too.  It’s supposed to be a pretty hefty medical bill and Betty’s insurance definitely isn’t enough to cover it.”

Peter bit on his lip.  Being Spider-Man, he worries about saving people’s lives when someone is exposed directly to danger.  Peter focuses on stopping someone from getting mugged, breaking up a robbery or, in this case, getting someone to a hospital.  But sometimes people need help beyond just in that instance.  Peter never thought about medical bills, surgery, the continuous trauma.  It wasn’t like Peter and May had money to spare.  Rent, food and gas alone was sometimes too hefty of a price.  “Did we donate anything?”

“$100,” May said.  She sighed.  “I know it’s not much, but at least you spared her the cost of riding in an ambulance.”  As much as it may have seemed like a joke, Peter knew May wasn’t kidding.  Ambulance rides, especially ones that have to be equipped to handled a gunshot victim, cost at least $1000.

“It’s something,” Peter said.  “Do you know how much has been raised for them?”

“A pretty decent amount,” May said.  “There’s a page in the email that shows us how much money has been donated so far.  They’ve raised almost a third of their goal.”

“That’s good, at least,” Peter said. 

He glanced at his food and suddenly, he didn’t feel so hungry, anymore. 

He had an idea forming in his head, one to help Betty with costs even more, but he wasn’t going to act on it until later.  When breakfast was over, May stayed in the kitchen to do some work at home so that she wouldn’t be too far behind tomorrow at work.  Meanwhile, Peter went to his bedroom where he took out his laptop and started to FaceTime Tony.  The older man answered without the first ring even finishing.  Tony was still in his bedroom, which Peter had seen only once when he was first being given a tour of the Avengers’ Compound.  Peter recognized the skylight windows over top and the massive, expensive artwork right behind his mentor’s head.  Judging by the red, puffy eyes, it appeared that Peter had woken his mentor up mid-slumber.

“Oh.  Shit, sorry, Mr. Stark.  I can call back later if this is a bad time,” Peter said.

“No, no, that’s okay,” Tony said, trying to stifle a yawn.  He kicked the sheets off of him and got out from his bed.  “What’s going on, kid?” Tony asked as he made his way down the flight of stairs and into the kitchen downstairs.  “Is it Betty?”

“Uh, well, yeah.  She’s okay,” Peter said, quickly.  “I mean, as okay as she can be after what happened.  She’s out of surgery and it looks like the bullet didn’t hit anything serious.”

“That’s good,” Tony said.  Peter bit his lip.  “Is something bothering you?”  Leave it to Tony to notice.

Peter hesitated.  The last thing Peter wanted was for Mr. Stark to think that he’s taking advantage of the older man.  Mr. Stark has given Peter everything: a suit, a new family, hope, comfort.  And Peter felt like he was just constantly taking and taking and taking and not giving anything in return.  Only, Peter couldn’t think of what else to do.  “Tony, I know I ask a lot of you but…”

“For god sake’s kid, you woke me up.  Come on.  Just spit it out,” Tony said, smirking.

“Our principal sent out an email to all the families at Midtown, explaining that, uh… Betty’s parents can’t afford the medical bills,” Peter said.  His face flushed bright red.  There was nothing else that Peter needed to say because, judging by Tony’s face, it was clear what Peter was trying to insinuate.  “I’m sorry.  I know people probably ask you for money all the time and the more and more you spend—”

“Of course I’ll help your friend out, Peter,” Tony said.  “Can you send the link to the fundraising page?”

“Yeah,” Peter said.  Gratitude flooded through him.  Peter tried to put was he was feeling into words, but a simple _thank you_ or _you have no idea what this means to me_ didn’t seem to fairly and accurately represent what he was feeling.  Saying nothing seemed even worse, though, than simplifying Peter’s gratitude.  “Mr. Stark, thank you,” Peter tempted.  “I mean… everything that you’ve done—”

“It’s alright, Peter,” Tony interrupted.  Though it was obvious Peter was trying to be serious, Tony looked like he was on the verge of laughing.  “How many times are going to go over this, Peter?  I’d do anything for you kid.  What’s a few thousand dollars anyway, when you own a multimillion dollar enterprise?”

Peter smiled.  “Guess that’s true.  Still, this means a lot to me.  More than you could probably ever know.”

Tony returned the warm gesticulation.  Based on the movements in the background, Tony looked like he was prepping for breakfast that morning: taking things out of the pantries, rinsing out the coffee pot.  “Did May get time off work today?”

Peter shook his head.  “She’s going in this afternoon,” Peter explained.  “Is everything alright?  You seem a little… on edge.”

Tony frowned.  “I know I gave you that long speech yesterday about you needing to take some time off but, uh, do you want to come to the compound today?  There’s just some things I need to talk to you about.”

“About the shooters yesterday?” Peter asked.

Tony nodded.  “I don’t know a lot but… it’s important, Peter.”

“Oh… okay,” Peter said.  Normally, Mr. Stark didn’t take anything too seriously unless there was a serious threat at hand.  “Of course.  What’s going on?  Is something wrong?”

Tony tried to smile, but Peter’s seen enough fake smiles all of his life: when May tried to put on a façade that she was okay after Uncle Ben had died or when MJ, last year, tried the hide what was really happening in her life.  Peter _hated_ fake smiles.  “It’s not like that, Peter,” Tony said.  His voice was shaky.  Again, not enough to convince Peter that it wasn’t actually a big deal.  “Let’s just not talk about it over the computer.  Tell May that I can… watch you while she’s at work.”

Peter scoffed.  “Watch me?  I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You know what I mean,” Tony said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.  I’ll take care of it,” Peter said.  “I’ll see you in the afternoon… hopefully.” 

* * *

When Peter mentioned Tony’s invitation, May gleefully said yes, something about how she didn’t want Peter to be alone today and that she was glad Tony was offering up the compound for the day.  Tony offered to come pick Peter up right away, but Peter wanted the opportunity to drive by himself for the first time to the compound.  Peter had no idea what Tony wanted to talk to Peter about so badly and especially so secretively.  Tony lived in one of the most secure buildings in the world, not only shielded by one the best AIs and security systems but also guarded by Iron Man, Vision and War Machine.  Whatever Tony wanted to talk about must scare him if it wasn’t something that they could talk about over the computer.  With that in the back of his mind, Peter triple checked that the band containing the nanomachines for his suit was still around his wrist and fully functioning.

Even though May or Tony were always the ones to drive Peter to the compound, Peter knew how to get there without any trouble.  Peter slowed down as he passed Mr. Delmar’s establishment to check out the damage done: his convenient store was taped off with police tape and there were still officers on sight taking pictures and examining the walls.  A tarp covered the hole where the once was a glass window.  The street looked eerily deserted, even though it was in the afternoon.  Peter didn’t have much time to look at the place because a few seconds later the light he was stopped at turned green.  He sped away, down the street and to the highway, all the while with his windows rolled down, trying to soak in the fresh air.  Driving was relaxing to Peter.  Blaring music, taking in the sights.  People who didn’t know Peter would assume he was a bad driver, always distracted and everything; his spider-senses, however, would never let him get in a car accident.

Peter drove up the final hill and slowed around the last curve until the Avengers’ Compound was in sight.  Peter always felt so… speechless whenever he came to the compound.  He felt he was driving through a high-end airport, especially since there were actual runways where the Avengers (or what’s left of them) would land the Quinjet.  He marveled at the marble staircase that led to the entrance of the Stark Industries portion of the compound.  He stared at the _A_ — the Avenger’s Symbol.  Sometimes Peter really didn’t understand how he managed to be _involved_ in this life.  Working with Tony Stark.  Being on a first name basis with Dr. Strange and Vision.  Plus, Peter had his own parking spot.  And _the_ Tony Stark was waiting for him by the entrance to the compound.

“You found it alright,” Tony said, holding his arms out.

“Yeah, yeah.  The spider-senses aren’t going to let me get lost,” Peter said. 

“You heard anything else about Betty?” Tony asked as he opened the door to the compound. 

Peter rarely came to the compound during working hours so it was strange seeing all of these… _adults_ bustling about, looking professional and serious.  Not to mention, Peter felt like every worker there was turning to stare at him and Tony.  Peter thought it would be too egotistical of him to think that they were jealous of him.  At the very least, they were curious about Tony and his intern.  Their relationship.  Whatever made Peter so important that Mr. Stark would have him over or take care of him as though Peter was his own kid.  The closer Peter and Tony got to the actual living quarters for the Avengers, the fewer and fewer workers there were to stare at the two of them.  The compound was split into two places: one for the business aspect of Stark Industries, which Pepper Potts ran as Tony’s CEO, and the other where the Avengers, Tony and Pepper lived.  To get into that area, you need special keycards, which only a select few people have.  Including Peter, though this was the first time Peter’s ever used it.

Inside the living quarters of the compound, it looked so empty.  Peter recognized the kitchen and the living room with all of its high-end furniture and ornamentations.  It looked pretty clean all things considering: there wasn’t a single dirty dish in the sink, everything from the blankets to the pillows looked straightened out.  It was almost like the place had been deserted.  “It’s clean in here,” Peter said.  “Where is everyone?”

Tony shrugged.  “Rhodes and Vision have meetings with the UN and with Secretary Ross.  And… the doc is out doing whatever the Master of the Mystic Arts does — or whatever name he calls himself.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “So that’s why I haven’t seen much from Dr. Strange recently?”

Tony nodded.  “Yeah.  He’s been protecting our reality.”

“Not as important as being an Avenger, right?” Peter said, jokingly.

Tony smiled.  “That’s exactly what I was thinking, and not nearly as important as babysitting our young Spider-Man.”

Peter’s sharpened senses let him know that Pepper Potts, the CEO of the Stark Industries, the mastermind behind this multi-million dollar corporation, had just pulled up in the driveway; Peter heard the low rumbling of her car engine and the sound of suitcases hitting the ground.  Right on que, the front door of the living quarters right down the hall, creaked open.  There was some thumping around, some scuffling, the clicking of heels and then, “Tony?  Tony, where are you?  Can you come help with these bags?”

“That’s our cue,” Tony said, hitting Peter’s leg.  The two of them got up and went to the hallway where Pepper Potts, wearing black jeans and cream-colored blouse, was hauling a suitcase and then a small briefcase into the hallway.  “Hey,” Tony said, this warm, bright smile that rarely comes up.  Tony took the luggage from Pepper and leaned forward to kiss her on the forward.  “You remember Mr. Parker, right?”

Pepper rolled her eyes.  “Of course,” Pepper said.  “Have you been here long?”

“No.  I just got here,” Peter said.  “Where did you just come from?” Peter asked, pointing toward the luggage.

“Business trip.  _Someone_ has to make sure Stark Industries stays up and running,” Pepper said.  She glanced at Tony before saying, “So, I’m guessing Mr. Stark has told you the good news already?”

Tony’s eyes went wide.  “Uh, Pepper… I actually haven’t…”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “What is she talking about?  What good news?  Wait, are you… _expecting?_ Am I going to be the godfather?!”

“What?  No,” Pepper said, laughing.  She walked over to Peter and held her hand up.  _The diamond ring_ on her ring finger was glaringly obvious, this huge band with massive diamonds decorating it.  Peter’s mouth dropped.  He looked back and forth from Pepper to Tony, completely awestruck.

Peter gasped.  “Oh my god!  Are you serious?!” Peter exclaimed.  He took hold of Pepper’s finger, fighting the urge to take the ring off of Pepper’s finger and stare at it.  “Wait, when did this happen?”

“Pretty recently,” Pepper said.  “I can’t believe Tony didn’t tell you, though.”  She hit Tony in the arm.

“The kid seemed pretty the distracted.  I didn’t want to—,” Tony started.

“Are you kidding me?  This is awesome!  I need to tell May!” Peter exclaimed.  He started scrambling for his phone and then realized that he had forgotten to ask Tony a very important question: “Wait… can I tweet about this?”

“Give me that!” Tony said, making a mad grab for Peter’s phone.  “You need to calm down.”

“Right,” Peter said.  He felt like he was hyperventilating.  “Right.  I don’t even have a twitter.  I don’t know why I said that.  I’m just super excited.  Honestly, this must be the best thing that’s happened to you in years, man!  This is so totally—”

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, laughing.  He put his arms around Peter before turning to Pepper.  “This is why I waited to tell you, Peter.  Why don’t you let us take your bags upstairs?  You hungry?”

“I’ll fine something,” Pepper said.  “Don’t you two boys have something important to talk about?”

“That we do,” Tony said.  He leaned over to kiss Pepper on the forehead.

Peter had so much energy from hearing about the great news that he picked up Pepper’s suitcase and briefcase and hurried up to the master bedroom without even breaking a sweat.  Perhaps Peter was overreacting and to the outside eye, he probably was.  The fact that Peter knew Tony, and knew a little bit more about his and Pepper’s relationship, made this engagement all the more exciting.  Tony has been through hell from having an indifferent, greedy and abusive father (at least, that’s how Tony characterized his father), to getting tortured by the Ten Rings, to all the unjustified hate he’s received because of collateral damage and then losing the Avengers.  Tony deserved having something this _pure_ and _good_ happen to him.  Not to mention, Pepper was honestly good for Tony.  He was sometimes impulsive or obsessive, and Pepper was structured.  They balanced each other perfectly.

After dropping off Pepper’s luggage in Tony’s room, they went up to the conference rooms on the upper levels.  Peter had only been here once before, and that was when he, Vision and Tony were being recruited by Secretary Ross under the Sokovia Accords to go to some place in Europe to infiltrate headquarters for a crime group called the Secret Empire.  Hoping that that wasn’t going to be the case again, Peter awkwardly looked around the empty conference room.  Tony stood at the head of the table with a nervous smile on his face.  He pointed to one of the chairs, which Peter sat in, not saying a word.  Though Tony always had a flair for the dramatic, Peter knew something must have really been bothering him.

“Tony, what’s going on?” Peter asked when his mentor hadn’t said anything.  “Is this about the shooters yesterday?  Did you find something out?”

Tony nodded, though he clearly seemed distraught about something.  “Yeah, I did.”

“So… who are they?” Peter asked.  “I want to know what’s going on.  You said you would tell me.”

“I am… I am,” Tony said.  “Look, Peter, I don’t completely know what’s going on myself and this is pure speculation so I could even be wrong.”  Tony stopped himself.  With a tap of his finger on the small tablet in front of him, Tony pulled up a picture on the TV screen in front of the conference table.  It was of some graffiti on the wall.  It didn’t look like anything all that special: two circles overlapped each other to form a Venn diagram and  then there was a huge X right through the center.  “Do you recognize this?”

Peter stared at it for a while longer and then nodded.  “Yeah,” he said.  You could found graffiti anywhere in New York, so it’s not like graffiti is anything worth paying attention to all that much.  But from the beginning of this year and even during the summer, Iron-Man and Spider-Man have been cracking down on graffiti artists.  Something about trying to make sure the streets of Manhattan and Queens stay looking nice.  Just catching a whiff of the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man scares most of the graffiti artists.  Now that Peter thought about, this symbol has actually been coming up a lot.  At the time, though, Peter was only concerned about scaring off the vandal, not taking notes on graffiti. “What is it?  What does it mean?”

“I did some digging,” Tony said.  “Probably in places that I’m not supposed to be going through, but if the FBI cared about keeping people out of their files, they wouldn’t have made it so easy to attack.”

Peter chuckled.  “I doubt they expected Tony Stark to be rifling through their files.  What did you find?”

“It’s the symbol for the Maggia Crime Syndicate.  Have you heard of them?” Tony asked.

Peter shook his head.  “Never.  Is that supposed to be like some kind of gang?”

“Worse,” Tony said.   “They’re one of the most powerful crime organizations in the world.  They started in Europe in the 1800s and they spread rapidly.  They consumed non-Communist Europe and America within decades.  They control almost all illegal gambling, loan-sharking, and narcotics trade on this side of the US.  They own casinos all the way down to Las Vegas.  Peter, these people have hands and eyes and ears _everywhere_.  Hell, this room is probably one of the few places in New York that’s safe from them.”

Peter normally never ventured in to the organized crime and gang violence in New York.  If he was trying to save someone’s life, he would get in the way, but getting yourself involved in gangs and crime syndicates never ended well.  Peter swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from looking too worried.  “So, let’s find some of their members.  Smoke ‘em out?”

“Don’t be naïve, Peter.  It’s not like we’re fighting Ultron-Bots, which stick out like a sore thumb in downtown Queens,” Tony said.  “You can’t just find a member and have them expose the syndicate.  They contain their secrets even better than Hydra.  Sacrificing themselves for the Maggia as if it’s as easy as breathing.”

“How can they be so powerful if they’re faceless?” Peter asked.

“The Maggia Crime Syndicate have influence all over labor unions, they control half the damn businesses here and they have politicians on every level of government in their front pocket.  Hell, we go about this wrong and we piss off the Maggia Crime Syndicate, they could find ways to pull funding for your damn high school.  The control they have over New York is unlike anything I’ve seen before,” Tony said.  “Once they have their hands on someone or something, there’s no turning back.  That fire that killed that family, the one the waiter got pissed at Spider-Man for, that was the Maggia.  Their symbol was branded on some of the burned wood and infrastructure.  At least that’s what the FBI file said.”

It was all falling into place now.  Why Tony had been sidelining Peter so much.  It wasn’t because Tony was worried about his protégé.  There were bigger problems at hand and Tony didn’t say anything because Peter getting involved with such a dangerous syndicate was… dangerous didn’t even seem like a strong enough word.  “That’s why you’ve been having me go after graffiti artists?  Because they were part of the Maggia?”

Tony nodded.  “They claim their territory by branding these buildings with their symbol.  If Spider-Man is lurking around those areas enough to scare the vandals off, it might prevent the Maggia from spreading.”

“Why didn’t you have me apprehend the vandals?” Peter said.  “Maybe I could have stopped them!”

“If you had done that, the Maggia would have come after you, Peter.  They have ties everywhere.  They would know your pressure points and they wouldn’t hesitate to use them,” Tony said.

Tony and Peter didn’t say anything for a long second, as Peter let what Tony was saying sink in.  When he finally had the courage to speak, Peter asked quietly, “How did you tie the Maggia Crime Syndicate to Mr. Delmar?”

“Because of this,” Tony said.  He tapped another few buttons on the tablet and the picture of the graffiti faded into a blurry security camera footage.  It was of the car from the shooting yesterday.  “I tried to clean up the image as much as I could but the Maggia aren’t stupid.  They must have jammed all the security cameras in the area.”

“How do they even do that?”

“How did I hack into the FBI before even getting out of bed?” Tony muttered.  “Watch,” he said.  And Peter did.  The camera didn’t pick up much, other than the car speeding away before taking an erratic turn into the hallway.  There was still plenty of chaos happening around, from the yelling and the running.  Peter watched as the shooters, these massive, burly men, hurried out of the car.  They were wearing laymen clothes, which meant that they easily disappeared in the masses of people.  The camera never picked up their faces, but it froze on a clear image of their backs.  The camera zoomed in to a near unnoticeable black tattoo on one of the shooter’s neck.  It was half of the Maggia symbol; Peter recognized the circle with part of an X going through it.  “I know it’s not much, but obviously that guy didn’t do a great job covering up the Maggia symbol.  Plus, I, er, I went through the police files.  The ballistics on the bullets that was used in Mr. Delmar’s shooting come from the same type of gun that Maggia Crime Syndicate tends to use.  Just going off the type of guns is a stretch, but that coupled with the tattoo and the fact that the Maggia has ties to local businesses… it just makes sense that the Maggia Crime Syndicate has something to do with the shooting.”

Peter bit his lip.  “Tony, I don’t understand.  Mr. Delmar is a stand-up guy.  I’ve known him ever since I moved in with May and Ben.  What would a crime syndicate want with him?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said.  “I don’t know if they want Mr. Delmar dead or if they were trying to scare him or if he was even the target… but I think it’s time for Spider-Man to pay Mr. Delmar a visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Infinity War was amazing and gut-wrenching and funny all at once and it messed me up on a whole new level. I loved every second of it :P


	4. My Town. My City. My Home.

_“Never underestimate desperate people._

_You never know how far they will go to get what they want.”_

Chapter Four: My Town. My City. My Home.

For the rest of the day, Tony filled Peter in on everything he knew about the Maggia Crime Syndicate.  Considering that the Maggia took secrecy pretty seriously, the only members ( _alleged_ members, not to mention) Tony could tell Peter about were the ones that were dead and no longer had any ties to the Maggia Crime Syndicate.  Even then, the henchmen to the Maggia were pretty good at covering their tracks.  Whenever there was an overthrow within the Maggia and a new family came to power, almost the entire old family would be wiped out.  Normally, the families were killed in fire.  According to FBI profile of the syndicate, the Maggia found fires to be the most elegant way of killing an enemy.  Something about how it burns away most of the evidence and wipes out a number of people and their property wealth so quickly.  The Maggia rarely got themselves in contract killings; the only deaths they were linked to were the deaths of members of their own syndicate or competing crime organizations.

“So they don’t just go around killing people?” Peter asked.  “Then how come they burned that business down with those two people in it?”

Tony rubbed his temple in exhaust.  “I can’t be sure, Peter.  The Maggia is heavily involved in gambling and loansharking.  When someone owes you a debt, you don’t go and kill them off because you’re not going to get your money for that.  You scare them.  You harass them.  You can go after their family, but you _don’t_ harm the person that your involved with in business.  Dave Miranda, the business owner, must have gotten involved in the Maggia Crime Syndicate somehow.  I just don’t know.”

“Have you investigated him or his family at all?” Peter asked.

“Who do you think I am, Peter?” Tony said.  There were a few rearrangements and button-pressing on the tablet.  The video from the security camera disappeared and files filled the screen.  Everything from bank statements to phone records to the stock and expensive reports of the bookstore Dave Miranda owned.  “I know this is a serious invasion of privacy and normally I’m not one to go prying into other people’s business like this but… I just don’t see any other way of learning about the connection that the Maggia Crime Syndicate has to the Miranda family.  The FBI gathered this information, I’m just borrowing it from them for the time being.”  Tony turned to Peter with an apologetic look on his face, though he was hardly listening to Mr. Stark.  Peter already knew that looking in on someone’s personal and private information like this was extremely against the law, but Peter also knew that Tony wasn’t going to use this information to his advantage.  The purpose of doing this was to help take down the Maggia and to protect the Miranda family if they were really in danger.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at,” Peter admitted.  Peter recognized the subtracting of numbers representing withdraws on the bank account statements or the repeated numbers that appeared on Dave Miranda’s call history.  “Everything looks normal…”

“That’s the thing,” Tony said.  “The FBI has been _extensive_ when it comes to investigating Dave Miranda.  They’ve combed through all the bank statements they could get their hands.  They’ve checked every single source of income and every place where Miranda spent money.  Everything is legitimate.  Nothing has ties to the Maggia Crime Syndicate.  None of his bank history seems shady.  Going off of the stock and income for his business, it wasn’t like he was bankrupt and then he suddenly as all his money.  That eliminates the need to borrow money.  The same goes for his phone records.  His calls are to his family or to clients and that’s it.  He’s clean.  Hell, he even donates a $100 to the same charity every month!”

Peter bit his lip.  “Then why would the Maggia go after him if he did nothing wrong?” Peter asked.  Peter was trying to seem merely curious: _if someone led such a normal life, what would a crime syndicate want to do with you?_ It wasn’t just curiousity that fueled Peter’s interest, though.  It was fear.  If someone who didn’t do anything wrong could get killed by the Maggia, that meant May or MJ or Shelly could get killed by this syndicate, too.  It meant no one in Queens was safe if the Maggia still had power.  “What can _we_ do?”

“Dave Miranda seems like a dead end for now,” Tony admitted.  One swipe of his fingers and all the files he just pulled up disappeared.  “The guy’s clean and digging even further in Miranda’s life will probably just be a waste of time.”

“What do we do now?” Peter asked.  He clenched his fist and eyed the device around his wrist.  “You said I’m going to talk to Mr. Delmar, right?”

Tony nodded.  “Yeah.  Mr. Delmar has to be involved with the Maggia somehow.”

“When do I go?” Peter asked.

“We have to be careful about how we go about this,” Tony said.  “If the Maggia catches wind of Mr. Delmar talking to Spider-Man then he’s a dead man walking.”

“How do we talk to him in secret, then?”

“You said you’ve been going to Mr. Delmar’s place since you were young?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.”  Mr. Delmar’s was one of Ben’s favorite places to go to after a long day of work or whenever Peter had a bad day at school.  The business owner was always kind to the Parker’s, and it was hard on Mr. Delmar after Ben was killed.  Mr. Delmar would give Peter free ice cream or would drop off some sandwiches to Peter and May’s apartment after he closed the shop down for the night.  Peter has been frequenting the place for years.

“And there’s never been any reason for the police to be suspicious of him?  Have there ever been any times where people thought his business was going to fail?” Tony asked.

Peter shook his head.  “No.  Never.  I’ve been going there for a years.  If something was up, I would have probably noticed it.”

“That’s what I figured,” Tony said.

“What’s our plan?” Peter asked.

“We have to make sure we don’t tip of the Maggia.  They know that the two of us have been cracking down on the graffiti artists, and they know that Spider-Man protects Queens from danger.  I doubt if Spider-Man turns up to visit Mr. Delmar after what happened, they would be all that surprised.  Try to avoid asking him about the Maggia Crime Syndicate out right, especially if my tech doesn’t work.  Make it seem like you’re just some concerned vigilante.  Make it seem like you don’t know about the Maggia,” Tony explained.  “You never know.  Maybe we are totally wrong about the Maggia being involved.”

“And it’ll just be me talking to Mr. Delmar?” Peter said.

Tony nodded.  “Yeah.  After Spider-Man helped repair part of his store — yes, I did notice that — he probably trusts you a little bit more than he does Iron-Man.”

“This is all we’ll be doing?” Peter asked.  “Just dropping by Mr. Delmar’s convenient store and asking him if there’s someone he knows that might want to kill him?  I doubt he’ll give us a good answer.”

Tony grinned.  “Of course that’s not all that we’re going to be doing.  I may not be Natasha Romanoff, but I know a thing or two about spying on people.  While you’re outside _distracting_ Mr. Delmar, I’ll be in his store sweeping for bugs and setting up our own.  Even if the Maggia isn’t after Mr. Delmar, whoever is just shot up his store.  He’s going to be way to scared to even tell Spider-Man what’s going on his life.  And we’re going to go through his phone and bank records,” Tony admitted.  “Again, I quite frankly don’t care about his personal information as long as it doesn’t have anything to do with the Maggia.”

“What if it does have something to do with the Maggia?” Peter asked.

“Then we’ll come up with a new plan to help your friend,” Tony said.  “We’ll have to plan this out carefully.  We know that his place is an active crime scene, which means police officers will be in and out of the place the whole day.  Friday and I are going to do some recon to figure out when it’ll just be Mr. Delmar at the bodega and _not_ the police.”

“What if there is no time like that?” Peter asked.

Tony shrugged.  “We might have to wait a couple of times, but I’m sure there’ll be a time like that.”

“What do you wait?  I’m not sure it’s a good idea to wait three or four days!” Peter said.  He could think of all the terrible things that could happen to Mr. Delmar in the span of a couple of days.  They needed to act soon in order to protect him.  “Tony, don’t you think we should do something sooner?  If the Maggia is involved and Mr. Delmar did something to piss them off, shouldn’t we help him?  Or protect him?”

Tony held up his hands.  “I know.  I know how much you hate waiting but this is delicate.  With the police and probably FBI at one point crawling all over the crime scene, we can’t risk getting ourselves caught.  I know you tangoed with the NYPD every now and then, but going head to head with the big guys in Washington _is not_ as easy.  To guys like Mr. Delmar, his business is his livelihood.  I’m hoping he’ll visit his business while the investigation is still going on, but if not, we may just have to wait until construction starts.  I’m sure we’ll be able to get him alone… eventually.  No cops and no customers lurking around, either,” Tony added with a smirk on his face.  “Just wait until _I_ say that we can go.  The whole purpose of you talking to Mr. Delmar is for me to set up those security cameras so try to be a little patient today.”

“Okay.  Okay,” Peter said.  “I’ll try to be patient.  Just, please hurry Mr. Stark.  I don’t want Mr. Delmar or his family getting hurt.”

“I will,” Tony said.  “I promise.”

Their little conference meeting about the Maggia Crime Syndicate ended since there wasn’t much else for the two of them to discuss.  With at least a general plan in mind, Tony fed Peter and Pepper dinner, during which they FaceTimed Aunt May, who was still at work, to tell her the news about their engagement; May was just as excited as Peter had been to hear the good news.  When they were finished eating, Peter decided it’d be best to get home since he still had homework to finish up and needed to get ready for school the next day.  Unlike on the way here, Peter didn’t find the drive back to his apartment nearly as relaxing.  He hit rush hour traffic so he barely broke twenty miles per hour for what felt like the entire time he was driving on main roads.  Not to mention everywhere Peter looked, it seemed as though he was being watched.  As if that one conversation with Tony was enough to tip off the most dangerous crime syndicate that Spider-Man had taken an interest in them.  Peter shuddered at the very thought.

Anxiety kept Peter up that whole night, which meant he was groggy and irritated and out of it the next day at school.  He wasn’t the only person who didn’t get a wink of sleep that night, either.  Most of the decathlon members hadn’t recovered from what happened Monday night.  That’s not unreasonable, of course.  They’re all human and they just witnessed their friend get shot.  Gwen and Cindy, who were closest friends with Betty, still hadn’t come back to school.  Everyone else had, and Peter could tell how hard of a time they were having with coping with the trauma.  Flash, Jason, Ned and MJ were all waiting by Peter’s locker.  When he walked up to them, the first MJ did was pull Peter into a hug.  They didn’t say anything, and Peter let MJ envelop him in her arms.  Even though she was taller than Peter, she still felt so small against him.

“Surprised you didn’t call me yesterday,” MJ muttered when she pulled away.  Peter honestly couldn’t tell if she was making a joke or trying to be serious, but either way, she tried to put on her most convincing smile.

Peter slipped his hand in MJ’s hand.  “I guess I just didn’t know what to say,” Peter admitted.  He glanced at his other three friends.  “How are you guys holding up?”   

“Alright,” Flash said.  The blank expression on his face quickly turned into a sharp frown as he glared at Peter.  “I suppose you should be in the best condition considering you just happened not be around when Betty was bleeding out in front of us.” 

Peter bit his lip, a pang of guilt and panic coursing through him.  Leave it to Flash to be so callous and douchy about what happened.  Fortunately, Peter didn’t need to come up with a good response because Ned came to Peter’s defense.  “Come on, Flash.  Is now really the time to be giving Peter shit?” Ned asked.  Peter flinched.  He hated listening to his friends argue over him, especially at a time like this. 

“I’m just saying, you guys don’t find at all a little suspicious that any time something bad happens Peter just _happens_ to not be around?” Flash muttered.  That sent a shiver down Peter’s back.  Flash was a pretty smart.  In fact — and Peter would never admit this to his nemesis’s face — Flash was one of the smartest kids in the school.  Besides MJ, who was observant and silent and _always_ around when Peter and Ned were discussing top secret business, it would definitely be Flash who could piece together Peter’s secret identity.

“Dude, what are you even implying?” Jason said, rolling his eyes.

Flash glared at Peter, then just shrugged.  “ _Nothing._ All I’m saying is that Parker must be _really_ lucky to not be around to see Betty and to be around at DC when we almost died.”

“Are you saying you _don’t_ believe why Peter hadn’t been there the day of the Washington Monument attack?” MJ challenged.

That easily shut Flash up.  After prying Peter enough and after everything that came to light with Peter’s anxiety, they all believed him when he said that he was trying to juggle with the survivor’s guilt and all the pain and all the misery.  No one dared to challenge that and no one knew the truth except for Ned, MJ, May and Tony.  Using his anxiety and PTSD as an excuse was bullshit and awful and definitely didn’t help with his guilt complex but, at the time, it felt Peter’s best excuse and one that wouldn’t garner many follow up questions.  Right now, using his anxiety would be a perfect excuse to get him out of Flash’s questioning: _All those gunshots just reminded me of what happened Uncle Ben.  I had to get out of there_.  That excuse stayed quiet in Peter’s thoughts.  Peter knew better than to say that. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter finally said.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you guys… _like always.”_ He wanted to add that he should have stayed with them, but he wasn’t one to lie.  If Peter hadn’t gone after the bad guys, he wouldn’t have been in the Iron-Spider costume, which meant that he wouldn’t have been able to get Betty away in time.  Things worked out the way they did.  If his friends had to be mad about it, then so be it.

Flash stared at Peter, glowering.  He sighed.  “Yeah, yeah, I know.  I’m just taking my frustration out on you,” he admitted.  “You’re such an easy target, sometimes.”

“Are we still having decathlon practice today?” Jason asked to change the subject.  He looked at MJ and Peter. 

“We haven’t really thought about it—” Peter said.

“I’ve talking with Mr. Harrington,” MJ admitted.  She glanced at Peter with an apologetic expression.  “We’re just trying to figure out how to move on after what happened.  We’re not going to do any practicing today.  We’ve got… we worked hard last year and we’ve still got some time until our first competition this year.” 

The bell rung at the moment, and Peter and his friends parted ways.  He and MJ had English together that morning, so they walked there together, hand in hand.  In class, Peter and MJ sat in the middle, which meant that not everyone could turn to stare at the two of them.  Word about what happened to the decathlon team, especially after that email, spread fast, like all stories do in a high school.  Unlike all the rumors surrounding Peter and MJ last year after Peter attacked Flash and MJ just up and disappeared for a few weeks, today, they were never met with unintentional malice.  Most people understood not to ask questions about what it was like to almost die.  Every now and then someone would ask how they were doing or if they needed someone to talk to you.  They were meet with gracious, kind smiles and _lots of pity._ Peter used to hate all that pity, even felt that he was undeserving of it at times.  But Dr. Strange (of all people, given his arrogant and stubborn façade) taught him that pity was just someone’s way of caring.  Their English teacher, this new young brunette women who looked as though she had just finished grad school, heard about the shooting and talked to Peter and MJ after class.  Her and _every_ teacher Peter had today.

“How many teachers told you that their door was always open in case you needed to talk?” Peter asked as he and MJ finished pushing tables in their library today.  Since they weren’t having a formal practice today, they were meeting in the library.  All Peter and MJ had to do before practice was get the chairs set up.

“Almost all of them,” MJ said.  She didn’t meet eyes with Peter.

Peter didn’t like that.  Even though MJ always acted like she preferred to keep her emotions hidden from others, she was always open with him.  And then, as Peter stared at MJ, he realized something.  “I never asked you how you’re doing.  If _you_ are okay.” 

MJ set her backpack down at the chair in front of her, and she looked at Peter, clearly trying to hold back tears.  She swallowed hard.  “Yeah,” MJ said.  She grabbed onto Peter’s hand, her grip tight.  “My father had his grip on me my whole life, and it kept me from making real friends… until I joined the decathlon team.  I feel like I finally have a place where I belong.  I’m not ready to lose a friend.  Not when I just started having them.”

“Hey,” Peter whispered.  He threw his backpack down on the chair beside MJ.  “Your dad doesn’t get to control your life anymore.”  Peter wrapped his arms around MJ and pulled her into his arms.  She wasn’t crying — she had never been a heavy crier.  Just based off the way she slackened in his arms was indication enough that she was upset.  Exhausted.  Worn down.  Anyone who was as young as her and who had gone through as much trauma as she went through would feel the same way.  “We’re all here for you.  For each other.  The whole team.  Even the whole school is for all of us.”

MJ let out a dry chuckle.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  She turned to look at the decathlon team, which was already making their way to the corner of the library where MJ and Peter were waiting.  Today, everyone stayed on campus.  Mr. Harrington brought snacks and the staff at the cafeteria gave the team some of the food from the snack bar.

Ned gave MJ and Peter some fruit snacks and some chips.  “Thought you guys might be hungry,” Ned said.

“Thanks dude,” Peter asked as he took the snacks from his friend.

The team settled into their seats.  Staring at his friends, Peter could tell how lost they all looked.  Lost and confused and sad.  Mr. Harrington was right behind them, going to stand behind MJ and Peter.  How could Peter be expected to lead these people in a time like this?  What would Liz do?  What would Tony do?  Hell, what would Captain America do if the Avengers suffered a loss and he had to be the one to boost the team’s morale?  What do you say to a group of people that were scared for the life of one of their friends? 

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat.  Peter and MJ both let out a sigh of relief after they realized they didn’t have to be the first ones to speak.  “I’m glad you guys are all okay,” Mr. Harrington said.  His voice was shaky.  “Betty’s parents contacted me.  She’s been resting today.  On heavy sedation and painkillers.  They’re going to start doing some CT and MRI scans, X-Rays and ultrasounds to check for any further internal damage to her organs.”

“Do you know when Betty will come back to school?” Abraham asked.

Mr. Harrington shook his head.  “Whenever she’s ready.  Her parents say that the doctors want to keep her at the hospital for a little bit longer just to make sure that she recovers properly.  But Betty’s a fighter and she’s motivated to come back to school.  Things are looking better for her.”

“How much will staying in the hospital cost?” Flash said.

Mr. Harrington smiled.  “Cost doesn’t seem to be as big of a problem anymore.  A very… _generous_ person has offered to cover their medical bills.  The Brants won’t tell us per the request of the donor.” 

 “What does that mean for Betty?” Jason asked.

“It just means that there is one less thing that their family and she will have to worry about,” Mr. Harrington explained.  “It means that they can worry about making accommodations for Betty when she gets out of the hospital, not whether or not they’re going to be able to make ends meet.” 

The news of this mysterious donor was probably the best news Peter and his teammates have heard all day.  Peter felt his heart burst and tears almost fill his eyes.  Maybe no one else on the decathlon team knew who the donor was, but Peter did.  Or at least, he had a strong guess of who it was.  Peter would have to thank Tony later.

“We also wanted to talk to you about the team moving forward from this… _incident,”_ Mr. Harrington said, carefully.  “Our hearts are with Betty and I want to make it clear that the most important thing for the team to do is recover in whatever way is healthiest for you.  I’m sure I’m not the only teacher or faculty member or _person_ today who has told you that they’re here for you.  But, seriously, you are more than just my students or my decathlon members.  Each of you mean something to me and if you _ever_ need someone to talk to  please, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me.  All of you, and about anything, even if it’s about what color tie would complement your date’s dress the best.  Do you all still have the number to the counselor that the police gave you the other day?”

There were a few responses, all of which sounded like _‘yes’_ or _‘yeah.’_ Mr. Harrington obviously wouldn’t ask anyone if they were planning on speaking with the counselors, but he emphasized the fact that there was nothing wrong with getting help.  The school was also setting up counselors to be available for all students, though obviously the hiring of outside therapists was for the decathlon team.  And finally, after talking about all the resources the decathlon members have, Mr. Harrington and MJ only briefly talked about what the year would be like after what happened.

“Obviously Betty won’t be joining us for nationals this semester,” MJ said.  Peter could tell how strong she was trying to act, but everyone could see through her façade.  “And Mr. Harrington and I are still debating whether or not we should participate in nationals this October.”

 _That_ was surprising news, and news that Peter and MJ had never discussed (he thought he was a captain, too).  There were always two national competitions held per year: one at the end of September/the beginning of October and one at the end of the year, in April.  Ever since Peter’s freshman year, the team has competed in both and normally made top 5 both competitions.  The Midtown decathlon team just dropping out of the competition would surprise everyone: the judges, the competing schools, the parents.  The team protested almost immediately.

“What?!  Why?” Flash protested.  “Come on.  We kick ass at those competitions all the time!”

“We just don’t want to force you guys to do something that you might not be ready to handle,” Mr. Harrington said.

“Can’t handle?” Ned said with a frown.  “Come on.  MJ, after everything that happened to you and Peter last year, the team never quit.  Betty was fully behind winning and competing for _you two._ We should the same for her.”  Ned was never one to speak out against someone who was in a position of authority, even if it was just MJ and Mr. Harrington, the captain and faculty mentor of the decathlon team.  Still, it was pretty damn surprising to hear Ned say something like that.

Peter cleared his throat.  “He kind of has a point.”

MJ glanced at Peter and then stared at the rest of the decathlon team.  “You guys are all okay with this?  Us still competing this semester, even after what happened with Betty.”

“Yeah,” the team echoed. 

“Okay.  That’s settled then,” MJ said.  “Normal practices can start next week.  You know… after things have settled down a little bit.  We had plenty of practice last year so I’m sure we’ll be fine.”  The team agreed and that was that.  There was no arguing from Mr. Harrington and MJ.  There was nothing else that needed to be said, other than they would be winning this competition for Betty.  “Then, it’s settled,” she said, though Peter could tell MJ was relieved the team still wanted to compete.  “I think that’s all we really needed to talk about today.  We’ll be sending out an email to everyone about topics and drills for next week.  I don’t expect you guys to start going over the topics but…”

“We will,” Abraham promised, to which the rest of the team agreed.

All the returners were dismissed and, at that point, Peter, MJ and Mr. Harrington had a small conversation with some of the new members.  There were only two new members, the perfect amount since one would be replacing Liz and the other would be taking Betty’s now open spot.  Finding someone to take over for Betty felt like a pretty shitty thing to do but Peter couldn’t think about that right now.  Mr. Harrington spent most of that meeting with the new members apologizing about what happened the other day, reassuring them that despite the stories of the decathlon team last year, they really weren’t bad news and they would be joining a team that’s as close as family.  They’d be forming everlasting friendships, forging plenty of great new memories, etc., etc.  Mr. Harrington has practiced this spiel multiple times to prepare for when they try to recruit new members.  The shooting was just an added layer of complexities and obstacles.  That being said, the recruits were pretty excited about the decathlon team.  They knew they would be an alternate for their first year but they didn’t have a problem with that.

Finally, practice was over and Peter could head home.  “Do you need a ride to your apartment?” Peter asked as he and MJ walked down to the bottom floor of Midtown.

“No, Shelly wasn’t working today so I got the car,” MJ said.  They were standing in the parking lot now, but MJ didn’t walk any farther to her car.  “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about what Mr. Harrington and I have been talking about for the last couple of days.  I know you’re a captain, too, but I just I figured you would be worried about… you know” —she lowered her voice—, “ _the shooters_.” 

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Tony and I have been working on it.  We haven’t found much, though.”  Peter hated lying to MJ after everything they’ve been through but Peter knew that if the Maggia was really after Mr. Delmar, the more MJ knew, the more danger she would be in.  “We should just focus on trying to help Betty and her family right now.  Tony said he’d let me know if we found something.”

At first, Peter was worried MJ would see through his lies.  Even if she did, though, she didn’t say anything about.  “You’ll find whoever shot Betty, right?” she asked.

“We’re going to try,” Peter promised.  He could see how terrified she looked, and Peter didn’t like that expression on her.  He leaned forward to kiss her.  “Tony and I are doing everything we can to find out what happened that day and who is responsible for what happened.”

“Good,” MJ said.  She kissed Peter again, before getting her car and driving away. 

The next day was all the same: waiting to hear a message from Tony, trying to sit through class while everyone else _felt bad_ for him.  Gwen and Cindy came back the next day, too.  They were distraught, upset, and it was clearly getting in their way of their schoolwork.  Teachers were pretty kind.  Cut everyone on the decathlon team some slack.  Peter threw himself into school and decathlon with full vigor, and even though it had only been a few days since Tony mentioned the Maggia, it felt like weeks.  It wasn’t until Friday, after all the waiting to hear when Peter and Tony could move forward with their plan, when Tony finally texted Peter during class.  It was short, sweet, to the point: << _Delmar’s place tonight.  Rendezvous at your place at 9:00pm. >>  _Peter let out a sigh of relief.  No more waiting.

“What is it?” MJ asked.  They were at lunch right now, surrounded by the decathlon team.  Peter was trying to act subtle about getting this text from Tony, but clearly she saw through it. 

“Oh, sorry.  It’s, um, it’s Tony,” Peter said.  “He’s just checking on me to make sure everything’s alright.”

“Are you guys making plans for tonight?” MJ asked, and Peter understood her implications.

“Yeah,” Peter said. 

Like last year, MJ and Peter had their captain’s meeting on Friday.  Mr. Harrington joined them today, which is a rarity, to discuss how they would regroup following what happened with Betty and the fact that they had less time to practice.  They planned out most of their practices for the month until nationals.  It was a pretty important captain’s meeting and there was a lot to discuss, but the entire time, Peter found his mind rounding to tonight.  Even as he drove himself and MJ back to his apartment so that they could hang out, Peter was hardly paying attention to what was happening.  The route to his apartment and his way around the parking lot were all so familiar that Peter barely needed to pay attention to what he was doing (again, he had to thank the spider-senses for that recklessness).  MJ knew why Peter was distracted and she also knew not to bother with asking questions.  Instead, she let Peter lie on her head, running her fingers through his hair soothingly, as they watched movies together.

Normally MJ being so close to Peter (and May still being at work right now), Peter wouldn’t be all that distracted.  Right now, though, all Peter could think about was the magnitude of trying to take on the Maggia Crime Syndicate.  The entire decathlon team was counting on him — technically, Spider-Man — to find the people responsible for shooting their friend.  And Peter needed to protect the rest of Queens, including Mr. Delmar, from this Maggia Crime Syndicate.  However they hurt the people of Queens and in whatever ways they control this area, it was time for them to stop.

Peter knew that tonight wasn’t supposed to be dangerous.  Iron-Man was going to be watching Peter from afar, and the Maggia Crime Syndicate had no reason to think that Spider-Man was onto them.  _He was the masked vigilante, the protector of Queens.  Spider-Man would, of course, swing to see what was happening at Mr. Delmar’s bodega._ Peter kept telling himself that the whole night. 

Dressed in the new, updated Iron-Spider suit, Peter snuck out the window of his bedroom and scaled to the rooftop.  There was hardly any light on the rooftop, not to mention the landlord (the only people who are supposed to have access to the rooftops) rarely comes up here so Peter knew he and Tony would be safe to rendezvous here.  Tony was already waiting, the new suit gleaming in the moonlight.

“You ready, kid?” Tony Stark asked.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah,” Peter said, though his shaky voice gave away his nerves.  In case Tony noticed how nervous Peter was, Peter covered up his tracks by hastily asking, “Did you pay for Betty’s medical bills?”

Tony paused.  “It was the least that I could do.  Barely cost anything.  Your school was very generous.  They raised plenty and I figured I could help with the rest.”

“Tony, I can’t even…”

“I don’t need a ‘thank you’, Peter,” Tony said.  “Let’s just focus on tonight, alright.  All you have to do is distract Mr. Delmar.  Keep him occupied.  Let him know that Spider-Man is here to protect him, but make sure that you don’t bring up the Maggia.  We don’t need to be fighting any mafia members tonight,” Tony said.  “When I’m done setting up  the surveillance videos and bugs, I’ll let you know over comms.”

“Comms?” Peter asked.  “I don’t have any comms.  Don’t I need an earpiece or something?  Or are my spider-senses supposed to—”

“Relax, kid,” Tony said.  “Just one second.”  Tony split the suit apart so that he could step out and hand what looked like a small, tan ear piece to Peter.  “I still haven’t figured out how to carry stuff around in this suit very well.  Come on.  Get your mask off.”

“Oh.  Right,” Peter said.  On the band around his wrist that contains the nanomachines to the Iron-Spider suit, there was also a small button that allowed for the mask to detract off of his face.  Peter took the earpiece and slid it in his ear.  “How does this work?”

Tony sighed.  “You just push down on the comms — you see that button? — and voilà, I’ll be able to hear everything you say.  Just try to avoid using that when you’re around Mr. Delmar.  I don’t want you tipping him off that you’re there with someone.”

“I’ll be careful,” Peter promised.  “So… are we just going to go?  How do you know that Mr. Delmar is going to be there?” Peter asked.

“I’ve been watching his place,” Tony admitted.  “Once the police and reporters who are there all day leave for the night, I always see Mr. Delmar sitting in his car across the street just _staring_ at his place.”  Peter was glad Tony couldn’t see his face right now, given how sad Peter must have looked upon hearing that.  “You ready to go?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, let’s head out.”

Trying to be stealthy while dressed as Iron-Man and Spider-Man, especially with the repulsors and lights on the latest Iron-Man suit, was difficult to the say the least.  They stayed on the rooftops, moving with the shadows and avoiding any streets that were busy.  Mr. Delmar’s place was only six blocks from Peter’s apartment, though, so it wasn’t like they had to travel far.  Not to mention, 21st street was practically deserted after all the bad things that’s happened here.  It wasn’t difficult for Tony and Peter to find a secure location on a rooftop across from Mr. Delmar’s bodega where they waited.  Considering that it was still a crime scene, all the damage in and outside the store looked the same.  And, sure enough, Peter recognized Mr. Delmar’s car parked out front.

“Zoom in,” Peter whispered.  A small box in the corner of Peter’s eyesight, a camera feed, zoomed in on Mr. Delmar’s face.  He was crying, his face contorted and twisted in pain.  “Oh god…”  Mr. Delmar was always so insightful and kind-hearted to Peter and his family.  Even after the disaster of what happened last year when Toomes’ blaster destroyed his shop, he was always positive.  _Things will get better, kid,_ Mr. Delmar always said.  And here he was: crumbling and falling apart.

“Friday, check for thermals.  Is there anyone in the store?” Tony asked.  There was a pause.  “We’re clear, kid.  You ready to go in?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  You have all the cameras and stuff?”

“Yeah, and while you’re down there,” —Tony fished out a small spider-bot and stuffed in Peter’s hand—, “get one of your spider-bots onto Mr. Delmar’s car.  I want to be able to track where he goes, too,” Tony said.  “Go.”

Peter didn’t spare another second.  Tony flew around the back, the lights on his suit going off as he slipped around the back.  Meanwhile, Peter got one web on the store across the street and flung himself to the ground gracefully.  He landed without making any noise, stood straight up to stare at Mr. Delmar’s car and walked over to it.  Peter wasn’t trying to scare the man, especially not when the Maggia might be after him.  Instead, Peter (or Spider-Man rather) made sure Mr. Delmar saw him.  Before Peter reached the door of the car, Mr. Delmar flipped the headlights on, eyes narrowed.  Then, the business owner got out of the car.

“Activate Voice Modifier,” Peter muttered. 

“Spider-Man?” Mr. Delmar gasped.

“Mr. Delmar,” Peter greeted.  The Voice Modifier in Peter’s suit made his voice just deep enough that no one would recognize, but not so deep that people could tell it was fake.  Plus, every time Peter used it, the new voice was just slightly different than the last one to keep people on their feet.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mr. Delmar stuttered.  “I’m not trespassing, Mr. Spider-Man.  This is my place!”

Peter grinned underneath his mask.  “Yeah, I know that, man.  Best sandwich in Queens!”  The two enjoyed their small bonding moment, but that feeling of warmth was gone quickly. 

“So, shouldn’t you be stopping bad guys or something?” Mr. Delmar asked.

“I can probably take one day off,” Peter said.  “Look, I’ll level with you.  I’m not Iron-Man.  I can’t take down terrorist organizations or build amazing machines and suits.  I’m not Captain America.  I’ve never had the power to try and take down an entire rogue Nazi organization and succeed no less.  And I’m definitely not Thor.  I’m not a god.  I’m just… I’m just some guy who happens to be able to punch harder than the average dude and who happens to have faster reflexes.  I mean, I know I’m capable of more than just punching hard but — okay, it doesn’t matter.  All I’m trying to say is that I can’t be expected to protect the entire world, but I can and I should be able to protect Queens.  My town.  My city.  _My home._ The other day, when what happened here happened and I couldn’t catch the guys…”  Peter paused to catch his breath.  “That’s on me.  I failed you.”

“Are you here to apologize?” Mr. Delmar said.  He gestured toward the bullet holes on the side of his bodega.  “Because I’m not sure an apology is going to fix that.”

Peter shook his head.  “You’re right.  An apology won’t help you right now.  What will help you is finding the people who are responsible for this,” Peter said.  “I can do that for you.  I can protect you now, even though I didn’t protect you before.”

Mr. Delmar frowned.  The fear and grief in his eyes, similar to what Peter saw when he was in the car, was now muddled down with an expression of what Peter assumed was temptation.  “How can you help me?”

“By finding the people who did this to you,” Peter said.  “I couldn’t get them before, but I’ll do everything in my power now to figure out who did this.”

“I know that you’re not just some average person and I know you have Iron-Man on call, too, but the police haven’t found anything.  And, despite that fact that you may be friends the damn Avengers, how much more can you two do?” Mr. Delmar said.  “Their car is a dead end.  No one saw their face.  None of the security cameras picked up what they were doing.  What can you do, Spider-Man?  How can you help me when the police can’t?”

“Because I don’t operate under the same rules as the police,” Peter said.  “And Iron-Man can hack into anything so, if anyone is going to be able to dig something up, it’s him.”  As much as Peter wanted to share with Mr. Delmar that they had a little bit of success digging their way through FBI files, Peter also knew that discussing the Maggia was off limits, so, Peter changed the subject.  “I’m not here to talk about Iron-Man, though.  I’m here to talk to you.”  

Peter took a step toward Mr. Delmar.  It wasn’t like Peter was trying to intimidate the man, but clearly moving closer to Mr. Delmar freaked him out.  The older man stumbled backwards, nearly falling.  Peter’s reflexes were fast, though.  He shot a web at Mr. Delmar, which stuck itself in the center of the man’s shirt.  Peter straightened Mr. Delmar, who looked like he was going into shock, up.  Mr. Delmar was distracted by the web that was stuck to his face and Peter seized the opportunity.  Peter let go of the spider-bot, which was still secure in Peter’s hand.  The spider-bot, as though it was controlled just by Peter’s thoughts, knew exactly where to latch itself: right at the bottom of Mr. Delmar’s car.  

 “Um… thanks,” Mr. Delmar said once he had gotten over the awe of being caught by Spider-Man.

“Don’t mention it,” Peter said.  “Uh.  That’ll just…” Peter let go the web, which hung from Mr. Delmar’s shirt.  “That’ll disintegrate eventually.  Won’t stain your clothes.  I promise.”

“Focus kid,” Tony said over comms.

Peter cleared his throat.  “Anyway, do you have any idea why someone would want to do this to you or your business?” Peter asked.

“Why do terrible people do anything?” Mr. Delmar muttered.

“You haven’t pissed anyone off, have you?” Peter asked.  Sure, he could have phrased that more delicately but he needed to get a direct answer from Mr. Delmar and he figured the best way to do that was to ask direct questions.

Mr. Delmar shook his head, almost hysteric.  “No.  No!  If you’re from Queens, you know the business I run.  I just make people sandwiches.  Practically the only time that I ever piss people off is when I run out of ingredients for their sandwiches or when I make the wrong order.  Honest!” Mr. Delmar said.

“And that never happens,” Peter said, jokingly.  His comment earned a small chuckle from Mr. Delmar, but the moment was gone quickly.  “Look, I know you don’t actually know who I am under the mask and I don’t intend on changing that tonight, but you have to trust me, Mr. Delmar.  I’m here to help.  Obviously, there’s someone out there who wants to hurt you — or at the very least scare you pretty badly.  I want to make sure this doesn’t happen again, but I can’t protect you if you don’t let me in.”  God, this felt like such recycled words.  Peter’s heard May and Tony and Dr. Strange say this to him last year.  And Peter must have said something like this to MJ last year, too.  He hated when people said this to him so he was sure Mr. Delmar hated it just as much. 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Mr. Delmar finally said.

Peter scowled.  “Come on, man.  These people are still out there and they’re dangerous.  They shot Be — a girl in high school and they shot your own family member.  A lot of people were hurt, too, so they obviously don’t care about collateral damage!”  Peter stopped himself.  He was getting too upset and he needed to be rational, otherwise Mr. Delmar would probably never talk to him.  “I know your scared, but this isn’t just about you.  People can die.  _Innocent_ people.  So I’m going to ask you one more time, do you know why someone would want to do this to you?”

Mr. Delmar stayed quiet for a long second.  And then—, “I’m all set here,” Tony said.  “You’re doing great.  Just wrap it up whenever you’re ready.”

“Mr. Delmar— _,”_ Peter urged.

“ _I don’t know!”_ Mr. Delmar exclaimed, so loudly that Peter was worried the people in neighboring businesses and apartments would hear the confrontation.  “Honestly, Spider-Man, _I don’t know_ why someone would want to do this to me.  I’m a law-abiding citizen.  I pay my taxes.  I don’t speed.  Hell, I even donate to the schools sometimes.  You have no idea how hard this is for me to know that there are innocent people who could die because of what happened.  I wish I could help you.  I really do… but I can’t.”

Clearly Mr. Delmar was pretty upset.  The tears were back in his eyes, his hands were visibly shaking.  Peter wasn’t a monster, and he understood some social cues.  He held up his hands in surrender.  “Okay, okay,” Peter said.  He carefully made his way to Mr. Delmar.  Peter guided the man to sit down on the hood of his car.  “Alright, I believe you man.  I’m sorry for getting you so worked up.  Come on.  Take a deep breath.  It’s not your fault.”

“I know.  I know,” Mr. Delmar gasped.  When the older man was calmed down, he finally said, “I suppose I never thanked you for helping with construction last year.”

Peter shrugged.  “Well, it was kind of my fault what happened.”

Mr. Delmar shook his head.  “It’s never your fault for what happened.  You saved me, and you saved my damn cat, too.  The people who brought that gun and tried to rob that ATM is to blame.”

Was it bad for Peter to feel a little relieved that Mr. Delmar didn’t blame Spider-Man for what happened?  Peter tried to keep his façade cool. “I’m going to keep an eye out on this place,” he promised.  “If these people try to come back again, whatever their reasoning behind doing it is, I’ll make sure that you’re safe.”

Mr. Delmar put his hand on Peter’s shoulder.  “Thank you for what you do for Queens.”

Peter smiled.  “Hey, it’s my home, too.”  He glanced overhead to see the outline of Iron-Man on the rooftop across the street.  “I think it’s time for me to go,” Peter said.  “I’ll be around.” And with that, Peter got a web onto the roof and didn’t look back as his soared onto the rooftop where Tony was already waiting.  “Everything all set up?”

“Yeah,” Tony said.  “And you got the spider-bot on his car?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Are you alright?” Tony asked. 

Peter thought about lying… but this was Tony.  Peter shook his head.  “No.  Mr. Delmar’s a good guy.  My family loves him.  I can’t imagine he’d ever do anything wrong or get himself tangled up with the Maggia.  And spying on him, following his car just feels wrong.  And an invasion of privacy.  And I hate it!”

Tony sighed.  “I know, kid.  We’re doing this protect Mr. Delmar, and I know it’s wrong to be tracking him but it’s the only way to figure out if he’s involved with Maggia without putting his life in immediate danger.  One way or the other, you’ll end up compromising your moral compass for the greater good… we can’t all be Captain America.”

Right now wasn’t the right place to start a philosophical argument with Tony so Peter kept quiet.  That being said, Peter really didn’t agree with that.  You never needed to compromise your moral compass.  Maybe that was naïve to think, but Peter was a teenager.  He was supposed to be hopelessly optimistic.  “I get it,” Peter finally muttered.

“Okay,” Tony said.  “And one last thing, Peter.”  That really got Peter’s attention because Tony almost _never_ called him by his first name.  “You are so much more than just some guy who can punch really hard.  You know that, right?”

Peter smiled.  He normally wasn’t one to seek out praise, but it felt pretty damn good to hear that from his mentor.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I know,” Peter said.  “What do we do now?”

Tony sighed.  “We set up camp back at the compound.  Come on.”  Tony held out his arms and gestured for Peter to come over to him.

“What are you talking about?” Peter asked with raised eyebrows.  “Do you mean I—"

“You’ll run out of trees eventually, kid,” Tony said.  “Relax.  I’ll get us to the compound in no time.”

Peter grumbled.  “You better hope there’s no paparazzi taking pictures of us…”  All that comment did was make Tony laugh.

The older man gathered up the teenager in his arms and took off.  It was pretty nice, Peter had to admit, being able to just relax in Tony’s arms.  Instead of worrying about what tree Peter was going to use to keep himself moving or whether or not he was aiming at the right trajectory, Peter could just enjoy the view.  No matter how many times Peter flew over New York, he never got used to seeing sights like Queens this high up.  The car lights and street lamps lit up the streets.  And soon, the skyscrapers were gone, replaced with the forests and then the Compound was in sight.  The parking lot was empty.  The quinjet was in its respective landing zone.  It looked peaceful.

Tony landed in front of the living quarters.  There were no lights on so Peter figured that Rhodes and Vision were still in DC and Pepper was either on a business trip or asleep.  Once inside, Peter and Tony both deactivated their suits.  The nanomachines ever so silently peeled off of them.  After they were out of their suits, they hurried up to the fifth floor so that they could set up.  Mostly, it was Peter standing to the side watching as Mr. Stark plugged in some wires and typed a few things onto his tablet, which caused the computers and TV screens surrounding them lit up.  It showed four different high resolution video streams of Mr. Delmar’s bodega: the breakroom for the employees, which was also partially a storage unit; the main area where customers shop; the back alley where Peter assumed trucks would park to deliver food; the last camera angle was of the front.  Beside the video streams, there was a small map with a red dot that was blinking red.  Peter assumed that red dot was the tracker on Mr. Delmar’s car; it was still parked outside of his shop.

“Hey, Mr. Stark, do you think we could get arrested for this?” Peter asked as he took in the sights around them.

Tony chuckled.  “Technically what we’re doing is pretty illegal,” Tony said, “but I doubt the state police are going to want to throw Iron-Man in jail.”

“Did you find any other cameras or bugs?” Peter asked.  He couldn’t take his eyes of the red dot just _sitting_ in front of the store.

Tony nodded.  “Yeah.  I didn’t mess with them.  Figured that would tip off the Maggia but I made sure to put _our_ surveillance equipment in all the right places so that they wouldn’t notice.  There were bugs everywhere.”

“What do you think he did?” Peter asked.

“Not sure.  Probably owes them money,” Tony said. 

Sighing, Peter tried hard not to look at the surveillance videos or the tracker.  He felt guilty and awful, like his intestines were twisting up as he tried to comprehend how illegal and invasive this was — _don’t think about, you’re protecting him, you’re trying to help Mr. Delmar._ Peter didn’t want Tony realizing what he was thinking so Peter covered up his thoughts by asking, “What now?  Do we order pizza or something and then just wait out?”

“We wait until something happens,” Tony said.  “Look, Peter, I know you want to be involved with this as much as you want but you should focus on school.  Do rounds.  Take care of the little people.  Friday and I will keep track of Mr. Delmar and I’ll keep combing through his personal records — I won’t make you get your hands dirty.”

Tony waited, as though expecting Peter to argue, but Peter stayed quiet.  Really, he was relieved.  Even with the Maggia Crime Syndicate, there were still other criminals that Peter needed to protect.  Not to mention, the less Peter had to spy on Mr. Delmar, the less shitty he would feel about this whole thing.  “Sounds good,” Peter said.  He glanced at his watch, yawning.  It was only 11:00, but he seemed like it was three in the morning.  “Do you think May would care if I crashed here tonight?”

“When I told May about tonight, I mentioned you might just stay for the night depending on how late it was and how tired you were,” Tony said.

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “Wait, you _told May_ we were spying on Mr. Delmar?”

“No!” Tony said, laughing.  “I told May you and I were going on rounds.  Letting her know whenever you were going out there in the suit was part of _our deal!”_

Peter rolled his eyes; last year when May unfortunately found out that Peter was Spider-Man, she made him and Tony promise that she would be informed of what they were doing.  When it was big missions, like when Ross recruited Peter to help Tony and Vision take down some crime group, May knew what was happening.  But if Peter was just going on boring rounds, why would she really need to know?  “Does that mean I need to text her?”

“You sound like it’s a bad thing that she’s concerned about your safety,” Tony chastised.

Peter took his cell phone.  “Yeah, yeah.  I know.  She loves me.”


End file.
